Once her name was Melusine
by Zelda1
Summary: Melusine's past ended when she took a nose-dive off a 3 storey building. Now she's trying to build a future with the X-Men. New Chapter: It's ALIVE!!! Angsty, yet sexy.
1. The Party

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own any of the X-Men, nor do I make any money off this stuff (which is kinda the point, as far as I'm concerned

DISCLAIMER: No, I don't own any of the X-Men, nor do I make any money off this stuff (which is kinda the point, as far as I'm concerned. Wouldn't be as much fun if it was work.). 

A/N**: **Once upon a time, there was a cartoon on Fox about the X-Men and that's where I started plotting out this story. I dropped it for several years, but then along came the X-Men movie and my interest was reawakened. So this universe is basically the cartoon one, only with Hugh Jackman as Wolverine and James Marsden as Cyclops. Yum. *zelda pauses to wipe drool from her chin* Mental communication is indicated by these are my thoughts and internal monologue is in italics _these are my thoughts?_ This story takes place three or four years after the movie. Dedicated to my sister, who faithfully read the first nine chapters before crying for mercy (and finding a job, go sis!)

RATING: R for the story as a whole; I reserve the right to use bad words and will probably end up describing bad situations. Angst … ain't life grand?

****

ONCE HER NAME WAS MELUSINE

Jubilation Lee took a long look around the crowded room and heaved a surreptitious, satisfied sigh. Never in all her short life had she seen so many beautiful people, dressed so well, all at once. Just passing to her left was a lovely, petite blonde woman wearing a pale lavender gown that accentuated curves Jubilee could only hope to acquire with age. The woman turned her perfectly coifed head, and smiled at the equally handsome man who joined her. Envy stabbed through Jubilee, but she banished it easily with the glow of her own accomplishment. She was here, not just for fun, but on a mission. On a mission with the X-Men.

She picked up her tray and began to circulate through the crowd. On a mission, at long last. Stopping to offer the guests canapés, she scanned the area for potential trouble. The Professor hadn't been sure of the specific nature of the threat, but he'd been sure enough that a fundraiser for Senator Deanna Carr, one of the few pro-mutant voices in the government, would attract some unfriendlies. And the team was equipped to deal with anything that came up. Storm, with her ability to control the weather; Wolverine, with his adamantium claws and mutant healing factor; Rogue, extraordinarily strong; and Jubilee. Who would…who would….provide a distraction, shooting fireworks from her palms. _Okay, Ju _she admonished, _that's not the way to go. Professor X picked you because you're good. Just go with that_.

The blonde woman in the lavender gown watched the young Asian girl disappear into the crowd. Though she was mortally tempted to laugh out loud, she contented herself with a small and triumphant smile. She often 'eavesdropped' for compliments, but rarely had they paid off so handsomely. She readily picked out the other mutant "team members" that the girl had identified. A tall Negro woman with striking white hair, wearing silver, had to be Storm. The vivacious Southern Belle, statuesque in a forest green sheath with a high collar and elegant black gloves highlighted by a stunning diamond bracelet, was certainly Rogue. And the Wolverine? There, behind the bar, polishing glasses and pouring drinks. _With a thin veneer of civilization as camouflage_, she reflected. Oh, formidable enough, she supposed. But not a match for her.

Jubilee stopped at the bar to reload her tray, and confer with Logan. "Hey kid," he greeted her. "Seein' any action?" "Yeah," she replied. "The mushroom ones are going really fast, but these green things are way gross. You?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "What do you think? Is something going to happen?" Logan paused to pour two shots and pass them to a waiter before replying. "The Professor knows his stuff. Somethin' ain't right here. It'll go down, all right. Better go," he urged, as Jubilee herself caught sight of the incensed headwaiter bearing down on her. Grabbing a new tray, she launched herself into the crowd and forced her way across the room. Maybe she could catch another glimpse of the woman in the lavender gown.

She was stopped partway to her target by a middle-aged man. "Oh thank goodness!" he smiled. "Please halt, I'm completely famished." He had the kind of grin that invited you to grin back, Jubilee realized. "Now, gracious bringer of hors d'oeuvres, tell me, which of these is safe to eat?" He reached for one of the green-topped crackers. "Ah, I see by the widening of your eyes that these are not a tasty treat. Perhaps the mushroom, then?" He took the last two from her tray, leaving her with only green. "Delicious," he proclaimed. "But scarcely filling." Reaching into his suit pocket, the man dropped a bill onto her tray. "A little something for your college fund, with more if you return with more of these delectable mushroom morsels?" The plaintive tone in his voice was only exceeded by the hangdog expression in his eyes. "It's a deal," Jubilee laughingly assured him, as she crossed the room to the main server station. Her eyes widened as she realized the bill he'd dropped on her tray was a fifty. "Holy!" she breathed. She was definitely heading back there with all mushroom! And her luck increased on the return trip; the lavender lady was standing right beside Big Spender. She was only ten metres away from another fifty dollars when, with a huge crash, the wall blew in.

The force of the explosion knocked Jubilee to the ground, and the aftereffects of the boom were still ringing in her ears as she got to her feet. Silhouetted in the newly made opening were two forms, one grotesquely huge, the other deformed and lizard-like. The huge one roared a wordless challenge, surging forward into the room. He was met by the slight form of Rogue, who, with one dainty punch, sent him flying back whence he came. The lizard guy was met by Wolverine and a blast of icy air from Storm. _Just a distraction_, she thought bitterly for a moment, then was stopped by the voice of the Professor. No, Jubilee, not a distraction. You must help these people get out safely. She looked around; people were already starting to scatter. 

Just ahead of her, the lavender lady was helping the Big Spender to his feet. "Come with me, sir," she said authoritatively. "I'm with event security." "You have a badge, I suppose?" he inquired weakly. "Of course," she replied, holding up an empty hand. "Of course," he steadied himself on her arm. "One can never be too careful, you know." "I know," she returned, leading him towards a side exit. Jubilee was immobilized with astonishment. She was not event security; they'd reviewed the files at the mansion before setting out. And yet, somehow, showing him an empty hand, she'd convinced that man that she was. Meaning … Senator Carr had never been the target. And the lavender lady was a mutant. And she was kidnapping that nice man. Jubilee hightailed it out the exit after them. 

She raced down the corridor without catching a glimpse of them. Only a closing door gave her a hint as to their location. She caught the door before it snicked shut and eased into the stairwell. The tapping of heels was coming from down below. With a deep breath in, Jubilee triggered her mutant power and began to sneak down the stairs after them. Normally her fireworks erupted with a hissing noise, just like the real thing, but she'd been working hard on her control, bringing her power to the point of firing, holding it there. Much better for sneaking, as current events were proving. She raced down three flights of stairs, cursing mentally when she heard them opening a door_. Please don't let them be too far in front of me!_ she prayed, exhaling with relief as once again she was able to catch their door before it closed completely. She saw them at once, hurrying down the hallway. And she'd lose them for sure if she didn't stop them soon.

"Hey!" she called out, then kicked herself. _Way cool dialogue, Ju!_ But it did its job—the lavender lady stopped and turned. "Where do you think you're going?" she added, for good cliched measure. "I'm with security," the woman began. 

"Oh no you're not," Jubilee cried, opening her hands and allowing the barest trickle of her power out, as a warning. "Now let this man go, or I'll have to do something!" 

"I don't think that's really necessary," the woman began. Jubilee shook her head, feeling the tell-tale tickle of telepathy at work. Her fireworks began to hiss in earnest as she built up for a blast. She'd have to aim carefully, to take out the woman without hitting the man. "There's really nothing wrong here." The woman looked past Jubilee, down the corridor behind her. "And I can take care of this by myself," she grated. If she hadn't been so busy aiming, Jubilee would have laughed. The oldest trick in the book! 

"Now," hissed a voice from behind Jubilee. She whirled around in shock, firing instinctively, but the blast was cut short by the wicked crack of a lizard's tail against her skull. 

"There's nothing wrong," the lizard-man finished with satisfaction.

***

Jubilee awoke in a dark, dank room. Her head was pounding, and though she was pretty sure she was lying still, she was also about ninety-nine percent sure the room was spinning around her like a crazy amusement park ride. She could make out shouting, from somewhere nearby.

"Morons!" screamed a woman's voice. Lavender lady, Jubilee identified. "A nice, simple kidnapping with ransom, and you screw it up! Do you know what this kid is? Do you know who she is? I had everything under control, until you turned up!"

"Don't push us around, Lady High-and-Mighty! We've all got responsibilities here. Our directive was clear. No one was to identify you. She saw you, she had to be dealt with."

"I _was_ dealing with her," Lavender Lady's tone had dropped into the subglacial. "She wouldn't even have remembered seeing me."

"Don't be a fool, Melusine," a third voice answered. Jubilee recognized this one too—the Leaping Lizard. "You ain't that good. Besides, what He says, goes. And He said, no one id's you. You don't want to cross Him, do you?" There was silence in the other room. Jubilee tried blinking her eyes and moving her head. Pain stabbed through her, stopping the tilt-a-whirl motion of the bed momentarily.

"She's awake," Melusine announced curtly. 

"'S your funeral," the Lizard called out cheerfully, as Jubilee heard the door open and close. A light weight settled on the bed beside her, and surprisingly gentle hands reached out to either side of her head, feeling softly around.

"How are you doing?" Melusine asked. "Would you like a drink?" She took a cup from beside the bed and held it to Jubilee's lips. After a drink, she continued. "Does it hurt?"

"Won't tell you," Jubilee whispered.

"Tell me what?" She continued her gentle probing of Jubilee's head, hissing softly as she determined the extent of the swelling. "This, it's not good."

"Anything," Jubilee answered, then gasped as Melusine's relentless fingers found a particularly tender spot. 

Don't speak, Melusine's mental voice urged. Believe me, it wasn't my idea to bring you here. Or to give you this knock on the head. My choice, you would have stayed in the hallway, nice little memory wipe, no one's the wiser. I really don't like this.

What? Jubilee thought dazedly back. Melusine disengaged from the girl's thoughts, sitting back on the bed. _I don't like any of this_, she realized, not for the first time. While the girl was at the hotel had been one thing, but now that she was here, there was almost certainly only one outcome. He would have it no other way. And in that context, what she was about to do was almost certainly a gross waste. 

"Lie still," she whispered to Jubilee. She laid her palms on Jubilee's temples, and somehow, gradually and miraculously, brought the room to a slow and gentle stop. A gorgeous lassitude stole through Jubilee's body, a deep warmth that banished pain and care, and swirled in a gentle motion from the tips of her toes to the top of her skull, easing and draining the killing pressure that had built up in the subdural hematoma, mending the cracks in her skull caused by the bruising impact of the lizard's tail, and finally, soothing away the surface swelling and smoothing the way into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

Jubilee awoke for the second time in the airless chamber, this time without any dizziness or pain. "Come on!" hissed a voice from the door. Sitting up, Jubilee opened her palm to allow a tiny bit of firecracker light to escape. It was Melusine, formerly perfect hair in some disarray. "Come on," she repeated. "We have to go now."

"Where?" Jubilee asked. Melusine rolled her eyes in frustration. "To get you out, of course. The others are sleeping. Now's our best chance. Come on!" Jubilee remained on the cot.

"Why?"

"We don't have time for twenty questions!" Seeing that Jubilee was not about to budge, Melusine relented. "They're going to kill you," she admitted. "I don't want that to happen, so you have to escape now. While they're sleeping. Before He comes." 

"He who?" Jubilee asked. Melusine's moment of calmness was past; she began to bob restlessly in front of the door. "Don't ask. Just come. There's not much time. Less if we don't go now. Come on!" Melusine opened the door, and Jubilee quickly scrambled off the cot and followed.

The room beyond was also pitch black. "Douse the light!" Melusine commanded and Jubilee obeyed. "Give me your hand!" They picked their way across the room; from the far corner, Jubilee could just make out the sound of heavy breathing. Halfway across, one of the sleepers began to whimper; Melusine froze. Sleep! Deep sleep! Jubilee's head began to sag. Not you! The thought lanced her back to consciousness. They hastened to the exit and slipped through. Melusine led Jubilee through a maze of corridors and staircases, in all directions, until finally they stood at a door. "This is it," Melusine whispered. "Out this door, then down two blocks and you're on Broadway. Don't wait around; get someone to pick you up."

"You're not coming with me?" Jubilee didn't know whether to be shocked or frightened.

"No," the other woman replied. "I have unfinished business here. Now go."

Jubilee paused with her hand on the door. "Thank you. I won't forget what you did for me." She turned the knob and disappeared.

Yes, you will. thought Melusine triumphantly as the girl ran down the street.

END OF PART I


	2. Taking the Fall

Once her name was Melusine…

Once her name was Melusine …

A/N: Disclaimer, etc. at the start of Part 1. Well, since I've yet to read any reviews, I guess I'll just have to assume that everyone is so stunned by my writing ability that they simply go away to reflect in quiet awe … ^_^ 

This chapter, especially, is dedicated to victims of hate crimes the world over. And may the perpetrators come to a proper understanding of their errors.

****

Part 2: Taking the Fall

Logan surveyed the garbage-strewn alley with disgust. Nothing. Again. He'd lost count of the number of Manhattan's dark corners he'd stuck his sensitive nose into, since Jubilee had disappeared at Senator Carr's fundraiser, and reappeared with no explanation on the corner of Broadway and Forty-Sixth. Even the Professor had been unable to lift the block shielding those twenty-four hours of Jubilee's life. Whoever had done it, had messed with the kid good. While kidnapping the wealthiest of Carr's guests, billionaire Joshua Doors. An enormous ransom had been demanded and paid, but Doors himself had not resurfaced. And the longer that took, the less likely it was to happen, Logan figured. So, whoever it was had two strikes against them: the billionaire and Jubilee. "Payback's a bitch," he growled, turning to leave.

Stepping out of the alley into the equally narrow street, he was nearly bowled over by two kids pelting down the street. "This way, c'mon!" the front one urged the second, as they darted around a corner. _Left or right?_ Logan wondered, testing the air. _Not much difference between 'em. Except…_ He sniffed more intently, then realized it wasn't a smell, but a sound that was bothering him. The sound of an angry crowd, not too far away. Maybe three streets over, in the direction the kids had been running. What was it Cyke had said to him before he'd gone out tonight? _"Don't go looking for trouble, Logan."_ "Who needs to look, when they're givin' it away for free?" he muttered, then grinned as he took off after the kids.

Three blocks later, he caught up with the crowd. "Where'd she go?" "I seen her over here!" "Goddamn mutant freak!" "Don't worry, Frank, she ain't gonna get far!" The frenzy of hate was a sour stench that threatened to overwhelm him. "Mutant scum!" screamed the woman standing next to him. Logan gagged on the breath he'd drawn to calm himself. Shoulders and forearms rigid with tension, he knew it was only a matter of time before he popped his claws. _Give her somethin' to really scream about._

"Up here!" Logan's gaze jerked upwards, along with the crowd. "Mutie bitch!" Silhouetted on the roof's edge of the three story walk-up, long hair billowing in the suddenly sharp spring breeze, was a girl. She took an awkward step back, one arm cradling the other. Blood was dripping from cuts on her head and arms. She flinched as another stone was hurled at her, taking another step nearer to the edge. One more step, and she'd be over, Logan realized, cursing as he also realized there was no way he could get up there in time. The crowd was screaming in ferocious delight as the gang on the rooftop began to stone the girl in earnest. Logan pushed ahead, trying desperately to get somewhere near her, but it was too late. One stone took her right in the forehead; she swayed back, stumbled, and fell. 

The smack of flesh on pavement silenced the crowd, but only for a moment. With a roar, the mob closed in for the kill. Logan shoved through as many as he could, keeping his claws retracted only through sheer will, allowing himself only the tiniest amount of satisfaction at the feeling of bones compacting under adamantium-reinforced blows. He hardly noticed the glancing strikes of ice pellets against his head, but as the size and intensity of the hail increased, the on-lookers began to run for cover. With a snarl, he yanked the guy in front of him out of the circle that had formed around the unconscious girl, and decked him with one punch. He caught a second on the backswing before the others realized what was happening. One turned on him, fist flying toward Logan's head in what would have been a painful blow, if it hadn't been stopped against an adamantium forearm. With a lightning fast move, he grabbed the guy's arm, pulling him forward, then gave him a solid boot in the stomach, sending him flying backward into another of the mob. "Fer chrissakes!" screamed the fine example of humanity opposite him, pointing at the girl. "That's the mutie!" He gave her another kick for good measure.

"Back off, bub," Logan warned.

"Or what?"

Baring his teeth in what might have passed for a grin among tigers, Logan popped his claws. "Or this," he growled. "You ready to play with someone a little closer to your own size?" Uncertainty washed across his opponent's face. He took a step back and was promptly clobbered by an enormous piece of hail. With a frustrated scream, he turned and ran. The others lasted only seconds longer. Logan took only a moment to watch them go, then dropped on his knees beside the girl. 

"Is she … ?" Boots stopped just beside them. Logan shook his head. "She's alive," he stated, with more hope than conviction. "Thanks, Storm," he said, looking up at the white-haired woman who had created a hailstorm out of thin air. "For _all_ your help."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," she commented dryly as she lowered herself to the ground. "We can't move her," Storm decided, pulling out her portable vid-phone. "Hank's in the car. He needs to have a look before we do anything." Logan nodded, smoothing the girl's hair out of her face. _Hold on, darlin'. You'll be safe before you know it._

***

She awoke gradually, senses returning one by one, and only, it seemed, as each one was absolutely sure of its welcome. Hearing was first, registering a gentle and regular beeping. Smell followed, an antiseptic, clean odour that tickled her tastebuds as the cold air passed into her throat. The fabric under her fingers was soft and plush. She was getting ready to open her eyes when she heard the voice.

Welcome. In a joyful rush, she bypassed the return of sight, and stepped into the realm of the mind. There, she opened her eyes with satisfaction. Sitting opposite her was a distinguished looking, older gentleman. Distinguished? he queried. Ah me, better than bald, I suppose. She blushed with embarrassment, but lost the emotion in wonder. 

Where am I?

You are at my school, he replied, and gave her the image of the stately mansion, filled with children with special gifts. Mutant children. She offered him her delight in return. 

Thank you. I am Professor Xavier. She bit her lip in sudden dismay, adjusting the arm she held cradled against her chest. Does that hurt? he inquired, inclining his head toward her.

She nodded in reply. I'm afraid it's broken, the Professor said. She quirked her head to the side, and smiled. What?

Don't you know this is the realm where the impossible becomes possible? Closing her eyes for just a moment, she looked Within, at the arm as it wanted to be. Whole, uninjured. And then she made it so. The Professor's surprise was quickly masked, but she registered it nonetheless. How did I get here? she asked. 

You don't remember? The Professor didn't bother to hide his surprise this time. She bit her lip again, trying to concentrate. Was there anything that she remembered? A fleeting image of darkness, running, shouting. And behind that … My name is Melusine, she said, smiled a farewell, and opened her eyes.

***

"A voluntary healing factor!" marveled Jean Grey to her mentor. 

"Completely under her conscious control," Professor Xavier confirmed. "And I'm confident, that given time, she will fully recover her memory. I believe her current amnesia is traumatic in nature, but not permanent."

"What has she remembered so far?" Xavier turned his chair to face Scott Summers. 

"Very little. She thinks she may have been born in Montreal. At the age of six she recalls being separated from her family. Not much beyond that."

"Another Canadian," mused Rogue, twisting in her seat to check Logan's reaction. He stood, as usual, in one of the room's darker corners, arms folded across his chest. He raised an eyebrow in reply, daring her to make something out of his response. 

"Indeed," Xavier commented. "But it's Melusine's healing abilities which myself, Jean, and Dr. McCoy will be investigating over the next few days." 

***

Hank McCoy paused on the edge of the lawn, casting a huge shadow on the carefully manicured grass. Sitting not twenty feet away, her back to him, was the exquisite blonde woman he, Wolverine, and Storm had rescued the night before. Of course she hadn't been able to defend herself; the healing ability she possessed was not in the slightest an offensive weapon, and telepathy was unreliable as a defense. Useful though the ability to read minds might be, for the most part he believed it did more harm than good to those that possessed it. 

Melusine looked up at the huge blue creature standing beside her. "It's not entirely useless, you know," she commented, tossing a few crumbs from her hands to the chattering sparrows gathered at her feet.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Telepathy," she clarified, tapping her temple with her finger. "Though sometimes I think it would be more fun to be able to talk to the animals."

"Like Dr. Doolittle?" Hank asked, amused.

"Dr. Doolittle?" A frown creased Melusine's forehead. "No, wait, I remember! He talked to the animals, and walked with the animals, and …" 

"Ate and drank and danced with the animals!" Her dazzling smile was all the encouragement he needed. "Speaking of eating, tonight is my night to provide our little family with dinner. Would you be at all interested in becoming chef's assistant for the evening?"

"I may not know how to cook," she warned.

"That's quite alright," he reassured her, looking around quickly before whispering "Neither do I."

***

_Neither do I!_ Melusine snorted softly. Whatever he might have said, Hank McCoy was no slouch in the kitchen. Three pots were already bubbling happily on the stove, and a sauté pan was hissing gently in anticipation of the onions currently being chopped by the head chef. Meanwhile the chef's assistant was slicing peppers and mushrooms, a task thankfully not beyond her heretofore untested culinary skills. In fact, the knife felt downright comfortable in her hands, passing with ease through the defenseless vegetables. 

"Mmmm," Hank hummed, passing judgement on the contents of the pot he was stirring. "The perfect moment. Melusine, would you be so kind as to bring me the potato flour? It's in the third cabinet along, second shelf, brown crockery." Standing on tiptoe, quietly cursing the giants who'd designed the kitchen cabinetry, she finally located the small jar. 

The kitchen door to the exterior opened as her back was turned. "Beast!" called out a merry voice. "What's dat you got cookin' on de stove? Look like Gambit come home jus' in time for dinner!"

"Impeccable timing, as always," responded Hank. "Melusine, may I introduce-"

As she turned to greet the newcomer, the jar slipped from her suddenly nerveless grip and shattered on the floor. Melusine stood rooted to the spot, swamped by a tidal wave of memory. Hank took a step towards her as she snapped back to the present with a gasp and exclaimed, "Diana!" She whirled and was gone.

Hank could only meet Gambit's sardonic gaze with bewilderment.

END OF PART 2

__

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It's good. It's great. The best story ever written on the X-Men!!! _(Well, a girl can dream!)_

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Or, make up your own!


	3. Deja Vu All Over Again

PART 3: DÉJÀ VU ALL OVER AGAIN 

A/N: Disclaimer, etc. at the beginning of part 1. I'd like to thank Wren, Kismet Noelani, Queen Galadriel, and sarah for taking the time to review (and leave nice compliments, thereby unknowingly reinforcing my superiority complex, hehe). Alas, dear Wren, Jubilee is busy in class now, but will show up just in time for the next chapter. I love her too, and I think she's weaseling her way into a larger part. Yes, the ability to weasel out of things … it's what separates us from the animals … except the weasel. (Homer Simpson) Oh, and I should probably add that I'm *ahem* borrowing some lines from Jane Austen. What? It made sense at the time …

****

PART 3: DÉJÀ VU ALL OVER AGAIN 

"So what do you think Hank will make us for dinner tonight?" The excited buzz was cut off by the solid thunk of the Professor's study door. Xavier sighed as he met the eyes of the man standing opposite him.

"You have some concerns, Logan?" No matter how hard he tried to prevent them, some things recurred with enough frequency to try the patience of Job. Logan's suspicious nature was merely one of them. What made it worse was that, equally frequently, the stocky Canadian was correct.

"Yeah." Xavier gestured for him to continue. "Somethin's bothering me about this Melusine. Something ain't right.."

"Yet you brought her here, rescued her from the mob."

"I know," Logan said without apology. "But since she's been here—it's like I know her, but I don't know her."

"Are you speaking about déjà vu?"

"Not déjà vu." A smile quirked Logan's lips, as he finally understood the root of the problem. "More like déjà smell." Xavier settled back into his chair, intrigued in spite of himself. Logan's hyperacute senses never lost their capacity to astonish. "I get her scent, I think I recognize it, but then I don't. Almost … I remember _not_ remembering it."

"A memory block?" Xavier wondered quietly.

"You mean like on Jubilee?" Logan's eyes went wide with shock.

"Perhaps. Or it may be a memory from … before. Would you permit me?" Logan sat. "Now, let us begin. If you could recall for me the most recent occurrence of this déjà smell?" 

_He was walking down the hallway; the scent reached him before they did. Jean, Beast, and the girl he'd rescued last night. In the better (or more unflattering) light of day, he could see she was no girl at all, but a woman, somewhere between twenty and thirty years old. Her scent tickled his nostrils, coming from underneath the well-loved aroma that was Jean. For a moment he thought he recognized it, but then the moment was gone._

Now let's follow that smell. Logan felt the Professor rub his mental hands with satisfaction. Images flickered too fast for him to really follow: dumping Melusine on the infirmary bed; carrying her to the car, checking her pulse in the alley; a woman touching his hand as he passed her a drink. With a dizzying jerk, the scene around him leapt to life.

_"Better go," he told Jubilee. The young Asian girl grabbed a tray and bolted from her seat, depriving the headwaiter of a most promising target. Logan met the guy's glare with a cocky grin and shrugged. The headwaiter continued to glare, so Logan let the grin shade ever so slightly into threatening. "Excuse me," a female voice interrupted his fun. He turned, smile fading, and faced a beautiful blonde in a pale purple dress. "Could I get a refill?" she continued, holding out an empty champagne flute. "Of course," he replied, playing the dutiful bartender to the hilt. Not only did she look good, but she smelt good too. As he handed the blonde a full glass, their fingertips brushed, sending a jolt through him that only reminded him how long it had been since…_

_"Better go," he told Jubilee, then returned to polishing glasses and dispensing drinks until, without warning, the wall blew in._

Xavier paused in his sifting of Logan's memories. Right there, that was when it had happened. Right when she'd touched him. Dammit! Logan cursed. The Professor's reprimand was sharp and swift. This is a tricky business, Logan! Don't fight me! Sorry.

***

Melusine plopped into the seat of the vid-phone, breathless with excitement. She remembered! Images from the past, from _her_ past sleeted through her mind—jammed into a seafoam dress standing at the front of a church at her best friend's wedding. Watching with joyful astonishment as the child of that marriage took her first tentative steps. Melusine's hands shook as she dialed the number her wonderful memory attached to these faces, and the trembling triggered a flashback, as the fourteen-year-old Melusine hid, quaking, behind a set of patterned drapes and wished with fervent desperation, that the girl standing in the room would not see her.

It hadn't worked out that way, of course. 

_Please don't let her catch me here. Everything is normal, you should just go away._ Melusine had repeated this thought, over and over. But her talent was still new, and she was far from mastering it. And she really hadn't gotten a good look at the curtains she was hiding behind. Immediate result: a pair of apparently mismatched window coverings and the discovery of one very frightened girl. End result: a friend she was willing, quite simply, to die for.

"The DeSantos family is not at home. Would you care to leave a message?" The artificial voice was beginning to sound a little ticked off. Melusine stabbed at the keypad, dismayed that she hadn't heard the answering program pick up. _What now?_ she wondered. She searched her expanding trove of memories for any sort of an answer. After a moment, she reinitialized the connection, dialing another number, fidgeting nervously while the call rang through.

"Hello?"

"Diana!"

***

_As he handed the blonde a full glass, their fingertips brushed._ Xavier froze the memory right there, stepping out of Logan's viewpoint and into the scene itself. The other team members were bright blotches of colour against the monochromatic background of the crowd. Rogue, surveying the crowd while sipping her drink; Storm, smiling at something the woman opposite her had just said; Jubilee, serving canapés to a middle-aged man. Xavier frowned as he recognized Joshua Doors. _Curiouser and curiouser_, he reflected, turning back to the tableau of Logan and the blonde. Taking a good look at the face she'd tried to hide from Logan, he shook his head in dismay. _What were you doing there, Melusine?_ His gaze settled on the champagne glass, where her fingers ever so slightly overlapped Logan's. Then, narrowing his focus, he went in, into the actual moment of contact.

It was like plunging headfirst into a raging torrent. The Professor was battered by a storm of emotions: lust, rage, excitement, envy, fear, conceit. He struggled against the assault, fearing it might bear him away, but in that moment, he regained control. Extending his own telepathic senses to their fullest, he followed the lines of Melusine's power as she gently reached into Logan's mind and erased all knowledge of her presence. Her technique, Xavier admitted, was excellent, for someone essentially untrained, but she could never have anticipated Logan's … well, she could not have anticipated Logan. _But why?_ Why had she sought to hide from them? He turned his attention to Melusine herself. 

_Attractive enough, in his way. But not tall enough to tempt me…So he thinks I'm hot, does he? Well, he's right. Ah well, in one lobe and out the other._Her power flowed again. Xavier pressed against the current, trying to uncover her real purpose, but he was blocked by a sheer dark wall of psychic energy. _Shields!_ Maybe she wasn't as untrained as he'd thought. Well, he'd just have to try a second time. But it would have to wait, he decided, as Logan's choked breathing penetrated his trance.

As the Professor finally let go of his mind, Logan lurched out of his chair. A few moments gasping on the floor, and his healing abilities had repaired his lungs enough for him to ask, "Well?"

"My most sincere apologies. I had no idea I'd taken you so deep." Logan accepted Xavier's remorse with a casual wave of his hand. "It appears that, once again, you were correct."

"I do know her?" _From where? From when?_

"Yes," the Professor answered, Logan's curiosity needling at him like a thousand tiny pins. Closing his eyes momentarily, he made his decision. "I think I'd better call the others," he warned, then sent out a summons to all the X-Men. Assemble in my study, immediately.

***

"Diana!" Melusine repeated, grinning in unabashed delight. On the vid screen, the face of her dearest friend displayed first shock, then joy to equal her own.

"Melusine!" exclaimed the other. "Hold on a minute, I'm in the middle of something." Diana looked up from the camera. "Scusi, privato. Benne. All better. Where are you? I've been so worried about you!"

"In Westchester. Someplace called the Xavier Institute."

"The gifted children guy?" Melusine nodded. "Oh my god, Cassie's going to be so excited when I tell her. Melusine, I was so afraid. How could you not call me for three months? What the hell were you doing?"

"Three months!" Diana frowned at her friend's exclamation. It wasn't like Melusine to lose track of time, at least not months. Static flickered across her portable phone's screen. 

"Mel, let's talk about this when we see each other. Cassie and I are in Switzerland right now, but we can be back in the US by tomorrow. Do you want us to come and get you?"

Melusine closed her eyes briefly before opening them with another radiant smile. "You can certainly come and visit me! The Professor says it's fine with him. I'll see you tomorrow."

***

Melusine danced down the hallway towards the Professor's study. She passed a mirror and executed a series of graceful pirouettes. Her memory was back! Oh, a few months were missing, here and there, but surely it would only be another few days before she could reclaim her life. And Diana, and Cassandra. She paused in front of the door, asking permission to enter. She'd expected to find the Professor alone, but was surprised to find all the mutants whom Xavier called his X-Men there.

"Melusine, please close the door," the Professor requested.

She complied, then stepped into the room, excitement frothing off her in all directions. "Something has happened, I see," Xavier commented pointedly. Flushing, she immediately clamped down on her telepathic abilities. 

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just … I _remember_. I've got my memory back." She nearly danced with joy there in the middle of the formal, formidable study. The door opened behind her, and one of Xavier's students slipped into the room. The girl's bright yellow jacket was a beacon that Melusine tracked around the room until she settled in place next to Logan. 

"But this is wonderful news, Melusine," Hank enthused. _Mais oui, wonderful news indeed,_ Gambit thought sourly. _Wonder if la belle will 'member what she did wit' Gambit's money._

"That is good news," the Professor said with quiet authority. "Then you will be able to tell us what you were doing at Senator Carr's fundraiser last Tuesday night."

"Senator Carr?" an obviously bewildered Melusine repeated. "I'm sure I don't know. Was I there?"

"Guess your memory ain't as good as you thought," came a low growl from Logan.

END OF PART 3


	4. Diana

Once her name was Melusine ...

A/N: Your regular Author's Note has been pre-empted, for a special presentation from Jubilee, who will be joining us for the remainder of the fic. 

Ju: Thank you Zelda. Okay, like, Zelda doesn't own the X-Men, okay, and like, she'd really like you to, like, you know, review … (_a pause. Frantic waving from Jubilee to attract the author's attention)_.

Z: Who left this thing turned to Valley? _She wrenches a dial._ Better? _Jubilee nods._

Ju: _(clears her throat_) Okay, here's the drill: the disclaimer was at the beginning. Reviews are appreciated -- they're the only concrete evidence of your existence in the ephemeral world of Internet communications. Hey, cool! I didn't know this thing did philosophy, did you?

__

Zelda shakes her head.

A VOICE FROM BACKSTAGE: And there's glomping in this section! Oh, and angst too!

Ju: That's it! _She jumps down and races backstage_. Liam Kincaid, that was *my* intro! You are sooo dead.

Z: And now, on with the fic.

****

PART 4: DIANA

"Then you will be able to tell us what you were doing at Senator Carr's fundraiser last Tuesday night." The Professor's statement echoed in Melusine's head. A political fundraiser? She would never go to one of those things, not without Diana, and Diana was in Switzerland and hadn't talked to her for three months. She babbled something incoherent in reply, aware at last that the gaps in her returning memory were more substantial than she had admitted. 

The confusion evident in Melusine's face wrung Hank's heart. How could the Professor treat her so? He'd seen the trauma Melusine's brain had suffered in the fall. "Professor Xavier, how do you know that Melusine was there?"

"Wolverine remembers seeing her there," Xavier gestured for their silence, "but the memory was blocked-" "Like me?" Jubilee questioned softly from her seat next to Logan. "Like Jubilee's," the Professor finished.

In the middle of the room, Melusine was shaking her head. "No. I don't-" She raised her eyes from the floor to look at Professor Xavier. "Show me?" she asked. 

Nestled next to Scott on one of the big leather sofas, Jean slid her hand into his as she picked up echoes from the rapport between Melusine and the Professor. She shivered as barriers crumbled and shifted in the newcomer's mind, as terrible images ghosted through her own mind, rippling out from Melusine's own recollections.

Scott squeezed his fiancée's hand in silent sympathy, feeling her pain along the slender thread of the psychic link that they shared. Jean relaxed as the bond between Xavier and Melusine dissolved, Melusine again studying the Oriental carpet as though there might be a pop quiz on its design later in the evening. He barely had time to register Jean's ripple of amusement before the young blonde woman pulled herself together, giving him in passing a glance full of sad self-awareness.

"It looks like my work," she admitted, "but I would need to see it to be sure." 

The Professor nodded. "Logan?" Jubilee twitched as Logan uncrossed his arms and took a step forward. He glanced down at her reassuringly. "It's okay, kiddo. Ain't it, Chuck?"

I will do my best, Xavier said simply.

That's about all a man can ask, Logan replied, knowing the Professor would pick up the thought. "Well, darlin'?" he asked Melusine, almost tauntingly.

In three swift steps, she crossed the room to stand before him, her composed exterior undermined by the strain in her hugely dilated pupils. "If I could have your hand, please," she asked, holding up her own hand, palm out. With a nervous swallow he brought his own seemingly enormous hand up to hers, and in a dizzying rush, Melusine took them Within.

Jubilee watched the two of them with trepidation. Would she finally discover the truth of her missing day? Was Melusine somehow involved? They remained motionless, only their increasingly shallow breathing betraying their inner struggle. Melusine jerked her hand away from Logan's with a gasp, then froze as she met his momentarily glassy eyes. 

"Well?" asked Storm. 

"I did it," Melusine admitted, her bewildered gaze still locked with Wolverine's increasingly sharp one, "but I don't remember it."

"And what about me?" Jubilee demanded, surging to her feet. "What did you do to me?" She held out her shaking hands. She had to know! Melusine turned and covered Jubilee's palms with her own. The universe made a brief, precipitate somersault around her head, and she remembered. Remembered the party, the fifty dollars, Melusine kidnapping Doors and then ... saving her life. "You!" she yelped. 

Melusine stepped back with a little sob. "I don't remember. I don't remember!" she cried in frustration. The rush of images from the girl were like some kind of freakish film, starring a bizarre stunt double of herself. Someone who walked, talked, thought like she did-except she had never thought those thoughts, said those things, killed that man. Yet it was something she could have done. It was nothing she hadn't done before, nothing she wouldn't do again-

Melusine, the Professor's mental voice compelled, be well. Calm yourself. That's it, slow down your breathing, bring in your shields. He waited until she had followed his instructions, then delicately meshed his own thoughts with hers. 

"Would someone be so kind as to elucidate the proceedings for the non-telepathically gifted among us?" Jean paused in the midst of mentally reassuring a shaken Jubilee to answer Hank's inquiry. "It was Melusine who blocked Jubilee's memory. Jubilee saw her kidnapping Doors. She followed them. Your Lizard," she turned to Rogue, "cracked her on the side of the head, causing significant cerebral trauma. Melusine healed the injury and helped Jubilee escape, but doesn't remember anything herself. You can ask the Professor," she said in reply to the skepticism she felt oozing from Logan.

Xavier pulled back from his telepathic probe of Melusine with a soft sigh. "Perhaps time will simply have to take its course," he offered.

"But-" she protested. What she had remembered about herself, in the past half hour, couldn't be overlooked. Could it?

"Melusine. This school, my work; it's about the future. Not the past. Tomorrow you, Hank, Jean, and myself will start again. And I believe you had asked permission for your friend Diana to visit? So tonight, let's have dinner, shall we?" The Professor started his motorized chair towards the exit; Scott leapt to his feet to open the door. Hank offered his arm to Melusine. "Shall we check on the progress of our meal?" Eyes wide, she tucked her hand around his arm, leaving one last thought for the two other telepaths in the room. I hope you don't regret this.

_Neither do I, my dear_, reflected Xavier in the private recesses of his own mind.

***

"Auntiemellie! Auntiemellie!" came a loud cry, as three and a half feet of five-year-old fury hurled itself through the front door of the Xavier Institute and into Melusine's eager embrace.

"Cassie!" She gave her goddaughter a fervent hug, then stood to greet Diana. For a few minutes their conversation was unintelligible to the others who'd found convenient excuses to loiter around the mansion's main entrance. Finally Diana stepped back to take a good look at her errant friend. Cassie had swarmed into her beloved godmother's arms, and now laid her dark head possessively on Melusine's slender shoulder. "You're wearing your hair down," Diana said approvingly. "I like it." Melusine's free hand moved compulsively to her temple, feeling the absent weight of the three tiny braids she normally favoured there. A gentle cough came from behind her.

"Diana, may I present Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Monroe, Logan, and Professor Charles Xavier?" A tall young man with chestnut hair and ruby-red sunglasses stepped forward to shake her hand. "My friend, Diana DeSantos, and her daughter, Cassandra." And if Jean and Ororo were a study in contrasts, one with red hair, red outfit, pale skin, the other, white hair, white clothes, and lovely dark skin, they were equally matched by Logan and the Professor. Logan was compact, muscular, and quite possibly the hairiest man she'd ever seen; the Professor, even confined to his wheelchair, was long, lean and bald as a baboon's-

"Welcome to the Xavier School for Gifted Children," greeted the Professor, derailing her train of thought. Diana surveyed the welcoming committee a second time. 

"A little old, your students," she observed.

Scott stepped right into the awkward silence that followed. "Oh, we're the faculty," he assured. Diana didn't have to look to know that Melusine was rolling her eyes.

***

Diana leaned back in her chair, enjoying the warm spring sun on her face. They were seated on the grassy lawn behind the mansion, Melusine, Cassie, and a few other children playing a raucous game of tag nearby. "It's a truly wonderful location you have here, Professor Xavier." She shifted in her seat to face him directly. "Now, where did you find Melusine?"

"In Manhattan. She was injured. My people brought her here."

"Not to a hospital?" she snapped. 

"Considering her injuries, and her unique physiology, it seemed the better choice."

"Unique," Diana began. "You mean that she's a mutant. So this school for gifted children is really-"

"A school for mutants," Xavier confirmed. Diana laughed.

"Wonderful! I see I shall have to increase my donation." Her smile faded as she continued. "How was she injured?"

Logan answered her. "She took a header off a three-story building." The Professor hastened to reassure her. "Most of her injuries are healed, but she is still suffering from short-term amnesia, specifically relating to the period before the fall. We hoped you might be able to help us. Do you know of any reason why Melusine would have attended a fundraiser for Senator Carr?"

Diana shook her head. "No. But then, in all honesty, I haven't spoken with her for nearly three months. I was getting a little concerned."

"You don't hear from your friend for three months and you get a _little_ concerned?" The sarcastic edge in Scott's voice earned him a glare from Jean.

"Mr. Summers, Melusine is a professional. I've found it doesn't do to inquire too deeply into what she's doing." Diana's tone was matched by the frosty gleam in her customarily warm brown eyes.

"A professional what?" wondered Storm. Diana sighed. Mel? she asked. It's alright, her friend replied, in the midst of the children's game. They'll find out sooner or later.

"I was sixteen when Melusine snuck into my father's house the first time. I caught her, she ran away, she came back, I took her to my father. She was frightened to death."

"Of?" Jean inquired.

"Melusine's mother was dead. Her father was a drunk and a gambler. When his losses got too high, he offered her as payment."

"How awful!" murmured Jean.

"I don't think she thought so at first. She was six, small and intelligent--just what the local Thieves' Guild was looking for. By fourteen, though, she'd become too large and clumsy for children's work, yet not large enough for 'adult' jobs. But the Guild owned her; her father's debts had increased and there's always a market for pretty children ..." Diana trailed off in the face of the shock she could see on the faces of Ororo, Scott and Jean. Logan and the Professor wore identical grim, unsurprised expressions.

"Papa offered her a job. As my bodyguard. Which she accepted." She raised her eyebrows at Logan's snort. "You find something amusing?" Logan considered his options, and kept his mouth closed. "That was Papa's intent. He knew, with her telepathic ability, Melusine was perfectly equipped to detect any threat to me. Yet, as a young girl, she would be discounted by others and able to go everywhere with me. Papa purchased her contract from the Guild and Melusine became a member of the Petrucci family."

"Pardon me," choked out the Professor. "Do you mean _the_ Petrucci family?" Diana quirked her head apologetically to one side. "Then your father was-"

"'Papa John' Petrucci, head of one of the most powerful Mafia families, yes," she corroborated. "Melusine took her duties very seriously. But since my marriage and Christopher's death, she's taken on more specialized assignments, long-term, troubleshooting problems, that sort of thing." Troubleshooting? came Melusine's amused thought, carrying a whiff of old guilt with it. Stop that, Diana chided. We've both agreed it was not your fault. "Melusine follows her own agenda, but she always has her family's interests at heart." She smiled warmly at the stupefied group. 

***

"Are you sure you're going to be okay here?" Melusine looked up from buttoning Cassie's coat. 

"Actually, yes," she answered Diana, standing to embrace her friend. "You know I can take care of myself."

"That's not what I meant," she said, grasping Melusine's chin in one hand and searching her friend's face. Melusine appeared well enough, but the shadows in the purple eyes told a different tale. "You look tired, Mel. Why don't you go to the beach house? It'd do you oceans of good."

Melusine's eyes flickered as another memory shot out. "The beach house?" she questioned softly. "I'd forgotten!"

"Well, d'uh!" Diana scoffed, then pulled Melusine close for another hug. "Now, you are coming to see us soon, right?" Melusine nodded.

"Good!" Cassie stated firmly, taking her mother's hand. "I miss you. So does Mommy. And so does Basil."

"Then how can I stay away?" she smiled.

END OF PART FOUR

__

Jubilee comes sauntering back onto the A/N stage, brushing her palms together twice, then bringing them up to blow imaginary smoke from them.

Ju: And that's why you don't mess with the Jubinator. Tune in next week -- we're all going to the beach! Remy and Logan and Scottie in trunks, oh my! And don't forget to review. _Her voice becomes menacing._ Or I'll get you too!

A VOICE OFFSTAGE: She really means it!

Ju: KINCAID!!!!!

Z: Thanks for reading! _Races backstage to separate the two imaginary characters before they make mincemeat of her mind._

Only your reviews can stop the insanity! Or keep it going, as the case may be.


	5. Beach Blanket Bingo

JUBILEE: Hi and welcome to part 5 of "Once her name was Melusine." Since it's been a while, the Zeldster and I thought it would be a good idea if I gave you a quick run-down of the action so far. 

Z: _(frowns, mouthing "Zeldster?")_

Ju: Chapter One, wearing this fabulous ensemble (_the backdrop lights up with a picture of Jubliee in an elegant dark blue formal dress)_ I chased Melusine and her kidnapping victim through the halls of a swanky hotel. And let me tell you, those heels hurt like hell when you're running! But not as much as getting clocked by a Lizard's tail. Ow! But by the time I woke up, Melusine seemed to have had a crisis of conscience and she helped me escape from the bad guys, conveniently wiping my memory of the event in the process. I don't appear in Chapter Two, so on to Chapter Three, _(the author begins to wave frantically to attract Jubliee's attention) _where I'm not either, so then it's -- Hey, what's with the lights? 

__

Zelda's frantic waving having been ignored, she's flicking the lights on and off.

Z: The *whole* thing, Jubliee. Otherwise I may have to get someone else to do the summary.

Ju: Okay, sure, whatever. (_mutters) _That is *so* irritating! Chapter Two, Melusine takes a header off a building and is rescued by Beast, Storm and Wolverine, losing her own memory as a result of the fall. Isn't life ironic? Ha, take that, Alanis! Chapter Three, Mel's memory returns and the Professor finds out that Melusine was the one responsible for my temporary amnesia. I'm back in Chapter Four, wearing my usual yellow jacket, and quickly forgive Melusine for messing with my head. And we discover that Melusine used to work for the Petrucci crime syndicate as bodyguard to Diana Petrucci. But the greatest news is that Diana owns a beach house in the Caribbean, and Melusine's invited us all to come along! I can hardly wait ... sun, sand, waves ... and little tiny Speedos. What more could a teenage girl ask? _Jubilee's expression grows vacant._

Z: She could ask to finish the disclaimer. _(There's no response from Jubilee, who's apparently still lost in Speedo-rific contemplation.) _You want something done … KINCAID!!

__

A young man, late 20s, saunters in, picks up a sheet of paper, looks to Zelda, and at her nod, begins to read.

K: We don't own the X-Men. This fiction is not committed for profit of any sort, save Zelda's own personal amusement. Melusine's French phrase should roughly translate as "You're not afraid?" _(Kincaid lays the sheet back down, and chuckles quietly to himself.) _Heh heh. I rule, Jubilee drools.

****

PART 5: BEACH BLANKET BINGO 

"I think it sounds like an excellent idea," said the Professor firmly, bringing the strident debate to a close. 

"But," stammered Scott, not yet ready to yield his ground.

"Scott, these are the facts. After extensive testing, we've yet to alleviate Melusine's amnesia, though we have determined that the memory blocks she placed on Logan and Jubilee were created by a mix of both her telepathic and her healing powers. We've spoken to as many people who were at the fundraiser as possible. The police are no further ahead in their investigation, and Mr. Doors has been returned none the worse for wear, after a short stay in the hospital. I repeat, a vacation sounds like an excellent idea."

***

Scott was still grumbling the next day as he loaded their baggage on the Blackbird. Jean sighed in frustration. "Problems?" asked Ororo sympathetically.

Jean shook her head. "Honestly, I love him, but sometimes he can be such an old man!" She surveyed the little group. "Wish you could come with us, Storm."

"Someone must stay to mind the store. And keep the Professor company." Jean sighed again, recalling the conversation she'd had with Xavier that very morning. _"Jean, you have a very important mission to fulfill. You're returning with Melusine to a familiar location, and I'm hoping that familiarity will cause more memories to surface. The presence of Wolverine and Jubilee should aid in that process, but I'm counting on you and your telepathic abilities, to help guide Melusine to the truth."_ Her reverie was broken as Jubilee began to argue with Scott over the placement of her bag in the compartment. 

Jubilee had leapt at the chance for a tropical vacation in Melusine's beach house, which turned out to be on Isla del Sol in the Caribbean. Logan had been more reluctant, even under the combined urging of Jubilee and Rogue, whom Xavier was sending along _"just in case. Though she could use a holiday too." _It wasn't until Gambit declared his intention of accompanying them that Logan withdrew his objections. _Even after three years, he's still looking out for Rogue_, Jean approved, then winced as Scott, pushed beyond tolerance, snapped at Jubilee. _Yep, just a happy family party_, she thought as she went to resolve the squabble.

"I wish you were coming, too," Melusine said wistfully, unconsciously echoing Jean. 

"Now, now," Hank soothed. "Jean is just as qualified a physician as I. And I'm afraid my appearance might cause some disquiet among the general public."

"Not on my island!" Melusine threatened, then relented in the face of the undeniable truth. He _was_ seven feet tall, and covered in entirely in blue fur. "People are stupid," she agreed, then stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Thank you."

"Oh my stars and garters," said Beast, blushing furiously under his fur as Melusine got on the jet.

***

"Welcome to my home," said Melusine, as Jean, Scott, Rogue, Gambit, Wolverine, and Jubilee dropped their baggage in the quiet, cool front hall. A gentle roar from overhead was the last they heard of the Blackbird, Storm at the controls, winging her way back to Westchester. "Miss Melusine," a voice cried happily.

"Abigail!" Melusine smiled warmly at the housekeeper.

"We've got some lunch laid out in the breakfast room for y'all, after you've unpacked and sorted yourselves out. And of course you'll be wanting to go to Riccardo's for dinner." With astonishing speed, the six guests were disposed of in their rooms, and Melusine was installed in her own blue-green retreat. She wandered around the room for a moment, soaking in the reassurance of her own things; a picture of herself and Diana, a filmy scarf thrown over the back of a chair, the tall, narrow lingerie chest. She opened the doors and pulled out a drawer, running her hands in awe over the collection of thin, shiny, and extremely sharp knives resting within. "Hello, babies," she crooned, then closed the drawer. Now was not the time for them. _Maybe, not ever_.

***

Six mutants lay all in a row, soaking up the tropical sun. "C'mon Melusine," Jubilee's sleepy voice urged. "You gotta catch some rays!"

"No thank you," replied the seventh mutant primly, reapplying sunscreen to her arms in the shade of an enormous beach umbrella. "UV rays are extremely damaging to one's skin."

"Shouldn't matter to you, belle," Gambit drawled lazily from one side of Rogue. "You get de wrinkle, bam, your healin' power fix it up."

"Ah don' think it works that way, Remy," said Rogue, her voice becoming more amused as she continued. "Logan's got the same power, and look at him."

"Hey!" 

"Oh, I don't know, Rogue," commented Jean. "Given Logan's probable age, his mutant healing factor is likely keeping up as best it can, all things considered."

"That's it!" growled Logan, scrambling to his feet. "This _old man_ is goin' for a swim. Anyone else comin'?" Melusine watched from her shade as Wolverine stalked to the sea, followed by Jubilee, Gambit, and Scott. A perplexed frown crossed her face. Something very odd had happened to her when she'd taken him Within in the Professor's study, something she'd spent several sleepless hours trying to puzzle out. Somehow, in those few minutes, she'd felt more alive than she could remember feeling in a long time. She could hear more, see more, smell more. She'd tried to chalk it up to interference, his healing abilities unconsciously conflicting with her own. Yet she wasn't entirely sure that was the complete explanation. Because the word that kept coming to her mind wasn't conflict. It was attraction.

***

Riccardo eyed the group of well-dressed foreigners coming down the path to his restaurant with satisfaction. Three men, one in white shirt and dark pants, wearing sunglasses, another, tall as the first, in a wine-red shirt and dark pants, and the last, shorter than his companions, also suitably dressed in a light shirt and dark pants. And the women! Ay carumba! Two tall redheads, one bright auburn, the other darker, with a distinctive white-blonde streak around the face, both wearing colorful sarongs and tank tops. For some reason, the younger one was also wearing a white shirt, tied at the waist, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal chocolate brown gloves. Riccardo shrugged. There was no accounting for taste. Behind them came two shorter women, showing off a little more skin than their companions, in short sundresses. The dark-haired one, Oriental in appearance, was dressed in yellow, and her friend, a blonde, was clad in purple. She was laughing as the group came up the steps, and Riccardo nearly yelped in surprise as he recognized her. He waited for them to be seated before heading to their table to pay his respects.

"And the seafood is just to die for," the blonde was assuring her friends. "Isn't it, Riccardo?" she asked, somehow knowing he was there without even turning her head. He swore to himself. How did she do it? And then he caught her laughing eyes in the mirror over the bar, which showed him clearly behind her. "Isabella," he chided. "You've stayed away too long, amiga." She stood and exchanged air kisses with him. "Thank you, Riccardo. May I introduce my friends?" She rattled off a series of names, which he filed away for later use, already furiously calculating how he might persuade her to accede to his request. "Isabella," he pulled her a little away from the table, "you must dance tonight. Roberto is here-it would mean so much to him. And to me. Please, say you will do it."

Gambit watched the conversation between Melusine and Riccardo with veiled interest. He'd been caught napping by her once. _'Dere's not gonna be a second time, cher_, he vowed, wondering briefly if he'd bitten off more than he could chew as Rogue smiled her lopsided grin at him and his stomach began turning a series of lazy cartwheels.

***

Jubilee looked around the restaurant with increasing anxiety. Melusine had excused herself from their table almost fifteen minutes ago, and still hadn't returned. "Jean!" she hissed, giving an accusing glance at Melusine's empty chair. Scott's fiancée closed her eyes for a moment before replying. "She's alright, Jubilee." Jubilee gave her best imitation of Logan's glower, earning a smile from Jean in response. Just then, the restaurant lights went dim, and a spotlight illuminated Riccardo, in the middle of the dance floor. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Riccardo's! We have a wonderful surprise for you. Those of you who are regulars will remember this evening's dancers from last year; and I guarantee, all of you here tonight will remember this evening for the rest of your lives! I am proud to present the greatest dancer on Isla del Sol, Roberto, and, making a triumphant return, La Splendida, Isabella!" He began clapping frantically as his spotlight was extinguished and a tall, dark-haired, and extremely elegant young man was revealed at the far end of the floor. 

Roberto raised his hands and the crowd fell silent. He clapped an insinuating rhythm: once, twice, three times. On the third time, a woman stepped forward from the crowd, drawn by the rhythm. Jubilee gasped. It was Melusine! Dressed in a fantastic, blood-red, flamenco-style dress, with her hair pulled back in a huge bun, garlanded with roses the exact shade of her dress. She danced around Roberto, gesturing and posing. He stomped his feet imperiously; she imitated him exactly. Finally he condescended to dance with her, stopping and starting his movements in a way that demonstrated his control of the situation. The dance ended with Melusine sinking to the ground at his feet. He offered her an arm up, and she ran off. 

Melusine peeked out at Rob from behind the curtain. He was really in his element now, heels flying, arms posed just so. What had he told her, the first time they'd rehearsed this routine? "O_ur job, Isabella, is to make the entire audience want either to be us or to do us."_ She took a deep breath as Rob brought both his heels down and flung his arms in the air. That was her cue.

Rogue snuck a look at Gambit under her lashes as the male dancer strutted off the floor. Oh, he thought he was pretty hot stuff, that guy did. And come to think of it, so did the guy sitting next to her. He looked over and caught her staring. She blushed, jerking her eyes back to the floor show, where Melusine was beginning her own solo. She moved delicately, hesitantly, at first, as though she were afraid. _I know that feelin',_ Rogue thought. Afraid of the music, afraid of the movement. _Afraid o' the unknown, like as not_, she recognized, her gaze drawn again to Remy. In the spotlight, Melusine's movements became more assured. Giving herself to the music, she danced with more bravado, and more abandon, until both she and the music finished with a triumphant flourish. Into the silence that followed, arms still upraised, she clapped the same rhythm that had drawn her from the crowd originally. This time, drawn like a moth to a flame, Roberto emerged from a group of men at the bar. Rogue looked at Remy for a third time, a speculative gleam in her eye.

Melusine's eyes sparkled as she and Rob continued their dancing drama. Teasing and flirting, she seemed to draw him to the brink, then give him just enough encouragement to continue. Her skirt tangled and untangled in her legs so frequently she lost count altogether. _Just like always_, she realized, still buzzed by the return of her memories. The music began to build towards the climax of the dance; the pace of the steps intensified. Melusine lost herself in the purity of movement-step, step, clap, turn, pivot-until, at last, the dance was over, Rob sinking at her feet, both her hands thrown over her head, palms out, her head proudly raised. They held the pose until the crew cut the lights, the applause of the crowd the same rush that she remembered. The lights came back up and she and Rob gave their bows. As she rose from her curtsey, she caught Logan's frown. _Okay, that's it,_ she thought. _I'm taking care of this tonight._

Riccardo stepped back into the spotlight. "Ladies and gentlemen, Roberto and Isabella!" The applause continued. "Now if you will kindly give our dancers time to change, we'll honour a long-standing tradition at Riccardo's-dance lessons from these wonderful artists!"

***

Wolverine took another sip of the whiskey he'd been nursing throughout the night. So far, he'd managed to avoid all this dancing nonsense, though it'd been a close shave with Jubilee. He didn't know whether to slap or thank the kid who'd finally come along to ask her to dance, after she'd sat beside him for five minutes, blushing hotter than a neutron star. _No, I'm not gonna dance_, he thought sourly. _I'm havin' too much fun torturing myself watching Jean dance with Cyke_. He allowed himself another long stare at Jean's happy face as she swayed to the music in Scott's arms. Some things couldn't be helped by a mutant healing factor. He gave the merest breath of a sigh as Melusine approached the table.

"Have you been sitting here all evening?" she asked. "Come, you had much better dance." He glared at her, but she didn't take the hint. "No one should leave Riccardo's without at least one dance," she urged. He picked up his drink in dismissal. She leaned in closer to him. "Tu n'as pas de peur?" she whispered in his ear. The drink slammed down on the table and Logan stood.

"The last dance of the evening, ladies and gentlemen. The most dangerous dance known to man-the Tango!"

Melusine stepped into Logan's arms and knew within moments she was in serious trouble. Whatever it was she'd felt during their telepathic encounter three days ago, it wasn't being dispelled by the dance as it should have been. No one had kept up with her tango, except Roberto, for years. But Logan, once past his initial awkwardness, just kept gaining in confidence. With a twitch of his wrist, he sent her spinning outward, then just as casually reeled her back in. She impacted on a solidly muscled chest. And his legs were well-muscled too, she discovered when she hooked a bare leg around his calf and sensuously slid it upward. Their gazes clashed as Melusine snapped her head around in a classic move; a thrill shot through her as she realized he was not as unaffected as he seemed. _Well, then,_ she decided, throwing her fate to her feet, _let us see who wins, M'sieu._

***

Rogue twisted in Gambit's arms. "Look!" she said. In the middle of the dance floor, Wolverine took three steps back, dragging Melusine along. One step forward returned her to her feet. A stamp, and the purple strappy sandals flashed in and out of Logan's legs, stiletto heels narrowly missing his feet. "Are they dancin' or fightin'?" she wondered.

"Don' know, cher," he replied, then chuckled as a third possibility suggested itself. _Better take care, mon ami. You t'ink she be dangerous now, jus' wait till you get her alone._

***

The music crashed its final exultant chord, and Logan and Melusine froze in position. She was cradled close against his chest, her crisp, clean scent overlaid with sweat and the musky tint of desire. She looked up at him, moistening her lips, and he could feel her breasts heaving with her short, rapid breaths. He stood, mesmerized, reveling in the overwhelming sensations of the moment. 

"Excuse me," someone tapped his shoulder. He turned, snarling, but it was just a kid. "For you," the kid said, passing a flower to Melusine. She accepted it with an amused smile for his reaction, then took a good look at the flower. Her flushed cheeks paled in an instant.

"Oh," she said, as if that said it all.

END OF PART FIVE

Kincaid: Next installment: The secret language of flowers revealed!

Ju: _(coming out of her Speedo-daze)_ Yum. I mean, what the hell are *you* doing here? _(Jubilee's palms begin to glow.)_

K: Well, it's been a slice, but time to go! Please review! _Kincaid takes off stage left, the "paff" of Jubilee's fireworks just missing his head._

Z: What he said. I'm not above bribing you with cookies, either. Or a Terry's Chocolate Orange. 


	6. Heart's Delight

JUBILEE: Welcome back for Chapter 6 of Once her name was … hey, wait, you clicked on the title … so you must know what you're reading, right? _(shuffles through a pile of papers)_ Okies, last chapter we all visited the beach, and went dancing. Melusine danced a fiery tango with Wolverine and then some kid came and gave her a flower … Look, Zeldiekins, I don't know what effect you're going for here, but I feel like that moron that opens Digimon Tamers. And another thing -- what's up with letting Kincaid interrupt me all the time? Am I or am I not the principal guest artist for the disclaimer? 

ZELDA: You are, you are. Definitely, absolutely, no doubt whatsoever. Principal guest artist.

Ju: So what's the deal with Kincaid?

Z: Ummm … artist in residence? Besides which, I may need him to do the higher-rating disclaimers. Union thing, you know how it is.

Ju: No, actually, I *don't.*

Z: Oh, well, see, considering your age, some elements of the story may not be appropriate, especially things like sex -

KINCAID (offstage): There's sex in this story? Ye gods, it *is* a work of fiction!

Ju: _(very dignified)_ That is the sort of interruption of which I have been speaking.

Z: _(smothering a giggle)_ You're completely right. I'll see to him immediately. As long as you finish the disclaimer.

Ju: _(still dignified)_ Very well. The X-Men are among the multitudes of things Zelda does not own; Melusine, Diana, and the story of Heart's Delight are among the few things she does. Zelda would also like to make an advance announcement that beginning this chapter we will be approaching the "R" rating. She bets you forgot about that, didn't you? Finally, we'd like to thank LidaRose for reviewing _(digs in her pocket)_ and present her with this lovely Terry's Chocolate Orange. _(stage whisper)_ And for commenting on the Jubisms! Thanks! You saved my bacon!

****

PART 6: HEART'S DELIGHT 

"Well, this is it," Scott said, as he parked Melusine's Jeep at the edge of the ramshackle collection of buildings. From the looks on their faces, the rest of his passengers weren't too impressed with their surroundings, either. "Hallo!" called a cheerful voice, the owner of which soon rounded the corner of the building nearest to them. "You must be Melusine's friends! I am Llera. We're so glad you could join us." The young man smiled happily at them. "Please, come this way. Everything is happening on the beach." He gestured for them to follow him. 

"Everything?" inquired Jean. Their host dashed back to the front of the line to answer her. "Yes, it's Chaharia! The Feast of Heart's Delight. And this is a twenty-eighth year, so of course our celebrations have to be exceptional." Gambit took the rear position, scanning the apparently deserted buildings restlessly. "Something wrong, Gumbo?" Logan fell into step beside him. Remy shook his head casually. Whatever his own personal feelings about Melusine, she deserved the same chance he'd gotten when he joined the X-Men. As he'd explained to her, when they'd returned from Riccardo's.

They'd assembled in the airy living room of the beach house, its tall windows open to catch the evening breezes. Melusine had given a short, and to his mind, unsatisfactory explanation of the significance of the flower she'd been handed. He laid in wait for her, just outside the room. "Remy!" she exclaimed; he watched impassively as she forced the fright from her face with a friendly smile. "You startled me."

"Gambit hope dat all he has to do, cher." She tensed defensively. "Or you forget how you take his money, dat time in Monte Carlo?"

She gave him an appraising smile. "Are you saying you were dissatisfied with your ... compensation?" He raised an eyebrow as the memory of Melusine's idea of compensation sent a wave of tingling warmth through his groin. Her expression became slightly unfocused as she picked up on his thoughts. "Remy!" she pretended shock.

"Don' matter, cher. Remy understand why you do what you do. Dat casino, it belong to your family. Protect de family, dat's tres importante. But listen to me, cher. De X-Men, dat's my family. An' I'm gonna protect dem. No matter what."

"Is this blackmail, LeBeau?" 

He shook his head. "Non, belle. De X-Men, Professor Xavier, dey believe in givin' people a chance. Dat what I'm givin' you. Jus' want you to know, Gambit keep his eye on you."

"Remy, I promise. No harm." He gave her a severe look. "I swear. Thieves' Honour." She grinned and disappeared up the stairs.

He was thrown back into the present by a solid thwack on the arm from Rogue. "Remy!" she hissed. The group was just entering the jungle, and a large tree blocked their path. "What's de matter, cher? Dat's small potato for you." She glared at him, then stuck out an imperious hand. He looked at her blankly for a moment, until it dawned on him that she wanted him to help her across. "Men!" she huffed as he finally took her hand.

Llera shook his head in amused dismay. "Mostly, we go this way," he said, pointing to a path cleared around the base of the tree.

"So tell me, Llera, if this Chaharia is such an important celebration for your people, why pick an outsider like Melusine to help with it?" Scott picked up the discussion.

"She's not helping. She's the star!" Llera proclaimed. Scott shot a startled glance at the young man. "No, really, we've had her booked for the role since last year." The shock didn't pass from the other's face. Llera sighed and took his chances with Jean. "I'm sorry. I simply don't have a serious nature." He grinned charmingly. "Truthfully, it's payment for a favour we did Melusine many years ago. The Petrucci family have been our friends for many years; our tribal shaman was happy to train her.

"Train her as what?" asked Rogue, as they stepped out of the jungle, into a wide clearing that backed onto the ocean. Jean stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. "As a telepath," she breathed. Greetings, friends of Melusine, came a strong mental voice.

"Ah, I see you've met my father," smiled Llera.

***

Jubilee wriggled further down into the sand, digging herself a comfortable seat. "The story of Namita and Oelwa is the greatest love story of my people," Llera explained to his mostly fascinated audience. "The feast of Chaharia tells the story of their battle against the evil spirit, Erulifa. And how true love triumphs over all." The clearing was full of people, men and women carrying baskets of flowers passing from one small group to another. Llera signaled the nearest to come over. "After the Chahariana, bonfires are lit and lovers jump them to earn the blessings of the goddess Neema. Others exchange tokens on this night, including," and he reached into the basket his friend Pheera held, "flowers from the garlands of Chaharia. These flowers were dearest to Namita; they are heart's delight." Pheera was passing garlands to everyone; with a neat move Llera cut him off before he could get to Jubilee. "For you," he offered, overtaken by a sudden shyness. The tumultuous pounding of drums recalled him to his duty. "We begin!" he announced with a flourish, then sat down next to Jubilee.

A group of men and women began to mill around in the only empty space left in the clearing, nearly directly in front of them. "Oelwa is the son of the chief," Llera said in a low voice. "In the white loincloth, with the red garland. The time has come for him to choose a bride. The women are called to order by the shaman." A ferocious figure with a huge mask struck the ground with his feathered spear, and the girls, dressed in identical white tunics, formed a line. Jubilee spotted Melusine's blonde head immediately. _Why isn't she in with the others?_ Oelwa walked down the line, stopped, and turned accusingly to the shaman, who replied by striking the ground again with his spear. 

"He refuses to choose, until all the women are present," Llera continued. The shaman hit the ground a third time, but Oelwa remained firm. Relenting, the shaman gestured with his free hand, and Melusine rose from her crouch on the sidelines and joined the group of women. "He refused, because Namita, his true love, was kept from the ceremony by her father, the shaman, who did not wish to lose his daughter to another." Oelwa walked down the line, talking Melusine's hand and drawing her from the crowd with a huge grin. Lifting the necklace of red flowers from his neck, he placed them around hers. She touched them, smiling, until she realized that she had nothing to give him in return. "He reassures her he needs no token of her love, but she gives him the sacred ribbon she wears as shaman's daughter." As Melusine pulled the white ribbon from her hair, three tiny braids trimmed with feathers fell forward. "General jubilation ensues," Llera commented wryly, as exuberant music started up and Oelwa's future subjects danced their joy.

Jean shifted into a more comfortable position on the sand as the celebration ended, the men, so Llera told them, departing on a hunting expedition. Only Melusine was left. She moved gracefully to the soft sounds of a reed flute. Isn't she lovely? she whispered in Scott's mind. He grinned and took her hand. Not as lovely as you, he asserted. She blushed. A vision of a small redhead in tights and tutu flashed through the link. A ballerina? he asked. Every girl's dream, answered Jean, as the joy that Melusine danced welled up in her own heart. 

As the music ended, and Melusine left, Llera took up the narrative. "Now we meet the final character of the drama." The men of the tribe, forming a hunting party, crept in through the crowd, Oelwa branded now by Namita's white ribbon. "For many years, the people have been haunted by an evil spirit, called Erulifa." Dancers dressed as animals raced through the clearing, drawing off the hunting party, leaving Oelwa on his own. Suddenly, a figure in a grotesque black mask leapt forward to challenge the chief's son. Logan tried to yawn discretely as the two started a fake battle. _These stories are always the same. Boy meets girl, boy meets girl's boyfriend, boy fights mutant evil menace bent on taking over the world, girl picks geek-boy._ But Ju was for certain caught up in the story, watching every move of the dancers with a rapt expression. _Neither one of those guys'd last a second in a real battle,_ he scoffed. _Besides, good guy's gotta win._ He turned back to Jubilee, just in time to see her fascination turn to horror as Erulifa ran Oelwa through.

Jubilee gasped, turning to Llera in alarm. What kind of love story was this--the hero dying without even so much as a kiss? He smiled reassuringly and clasped her hand. Beside them, Logan curled his lips in a silent snarl. That kid would have to be watched. Jubilee found trouble too easily, as far as he was concerned. Gambit nudged his elbow. "Keepin' an eye out, non?" he whispered. Logan gave the Cajun a glimpse of his grim expression; Remy immediately edged his hand away from Rogue's, smiling lopsidedly, as if to say Rogue could take care of herself. _But she shouldn't have to, bub,_ he thought, then forced his attention back to the stage action, just in time to see Melusine sink to her knees, the white ribbon clutched to her chest.

Remy considered his options. Logan on his right, Rogue on his left. Each equally dangerous, in their own way. _Mos' day, he'd jus' as soon gut me as look at me. Sure hope Stormy's right, dat jus' de way he treat everyone._ _And Rogue?_ He called up the image of her sunning on the beach, more stunning in her modest suit than any bikini-clad model he'd known. _Or unclad model, for dat matter._ To touch her bare skin was to court death, that was Rogue's power. That he was beginning to seriously consider whether death was such an awful thing, that was Rogue's power over him. A harsh rattling called his attention away from the contemplation of Southern beauty. Erulifa, tired of harassing the villagers, had decided to take on Namita, and now the masked spirit danced a threatening circle around Melusine.

Melusine's attention was only half on the steps of the dance as she and Erulifa traded mock blows. The choreography of the fight scene wasn't all that difficult, anyway, and her big moment was coming soon. She needed to be mentally prepared, she needed--_Not to step in the hole,_ she scolded herself. _Better get into the 'now,' or there won't be a later._ She focused on Erulifa's dark carved mask. _Step, step, cross spears, touch. Stagger back with pain from the blow. Push forward. Another hit! Stagger again._ Melusine sank deeper into character, opening herself to the bone-chilling fear that Namita must have felt, facing the ultimate evil that had killed the one she loved. The descending twilight helped to narrow her focus, making the mask and the spear seem to be the only real things in her universe. A danced misstep, and Erulifa leapt for the opening, impaling her, just as he'd done to Oelwa. Melusine touched disbelieving hands to the wound, then raised a berry-stained hand to the hideous mask. The world seemed to spin as she grasped the mask by the edge and ripped it off. The crowd gasped as the mask fell away, revealing the face of Oelwa. And Melusine collapsed as razor-sharp pain sliced through her mind.

__

Everything was hazed with multi-coloured lights. Their sparkling obscured more than it revealed, but she saw enough to see that he was beautiful, smiling at her, smiling for her. The lights twisted and danced and she took his hand, placing it on her heart. Another flash: "Can you do it, my sweet?" Watery shimmers obscured her vision, but she might have recognized Jubilee, as the man's beautiful, smiling face shattered into a thousand pieces, leaving only the stench of disease, decay, and purest malice. 

Jean squeezed Scott's hand tightly as Oelwa was exposed as the man behind the mask. But when the real Erulifa appeared behind the hero and she didn't let go, he knew something was wrong. "Jean?"

It's Mel, the answer came back. He tensed, preparing to leap up to the rescue. Not a threat, his fiancée managed, her mental voice tight with strain. Memories, new ones. Painful. He slid an arm around her slender shoulders. "Can you deal?" he whispered, wordlessly offering whatever she needed. "Jeannie?" Logan, too, had noticed her distress. She took a deep breath, then nodded. He relaxed, trusting her judgement. But I know you, Jean, stated Scott. You sure you're okay? He felt her fleeting annoyance at his nagging, which told him more about her condition than any words she might say. Satisfied, and taking this opportunity to cuddle Jean just a little closer, he watched as the latest battle between Oelwa and Erulifa followed the same route as the previous two.

Jubilee could hardly breathe as Erulifa chased Oelwa around the clearing, landing blow after blow without being touched himself. She still couldn't believe that Namita had gone down, done in by her one true love. She brought both her hands to her face in consternation as Erulifa and Oelwa faced off in what she was sure was their final confrontation. The evil spirit capered in triumph as a visibly weakening Oelwa tried to raise his weapon to defend himself. Erulifa drew back his sword, then brought it down in the killing blow. 

The clang the sword made as it hit the head of the spear that suddenly appeared between the two opponents echoed like a clap of thunder. Jubilee's was not the only breath of astonishment as Namita strode forward, spear in hand, to defend her lover. Her dress still stained from her mortal wound, she attacked Erulifa again and again. Nor did Oelwa lag in the attack. They harried and teased the spirit from both sides, until, with one perfectly coordinated motion, they both struck. With a blood-curdling scream, the spirit vanished, leaving only his mask behind. A jubilant Oelwa turned to Namita, only to have his victory become ashes as she stumbled. He caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.

Jean blinked, feeling a gentle pressure against her shields. Somehow, she seemed to be hearing two things at once: a gentle speech in a language she didn't recognize, and, like some bizarre experiment in film dubbing, the same speech in English. Mel? she queried. Tears were running down the face of the dancer playing Oelwa, as he said farewell to Namita. As she listened to the words, she felt tears come to her own eyes.

"You are day, and the night that follows," Oelwa whispered in despair. "You are darkness; you are light. You are joy and you are sorrow; you are known as heart's delight." Namita's farewell was not spoken; caressing the face of her lover gently, she closed her eyes. The doppelganger effect continued. With her eyes, Jean was sure she saw a woman slowly processing into the clearing. With her heart, though, she saw a sparkling that began far out on the horizon, over the distant sea, that grew brighter and nearer as the sun set. Sighing, she abandoned the physical realm and allowed the vision Melusine was creating to take over.

The dancing lights drew closer and closer to the clearing; then, in one breathtaking moment, they flashed lavender-white, solidifying into the form of the most beautiful woman Jean had ever seen. Her hair was deepest auburn, her eyes a clear and lovely green. She brought with her a sense of peace and comfort, stronger than any Jean had felt in a long time, except in Scott's arms. Lavender sparks shot off her in all directions, finally attracting the attention of the grieving Oelwa. He raised his head, eyes widening with awe as a dreadful hope arose in his heart. The goddess touched his face with one hand, smiled, and brought her hands together over her head. 

A fountain of shimmering light spurted up from between Neema's hands, gushing down to surround Namita's body. She lay perfectly still, bathed in the goddess's radiance; Neema gestured to Oelwa. With a trembling hand, he reached forward, smoothing down his beloved's hair, and with that touch, she awoke, as if from no more than a dream. The lovers embraced, the delighted goddess garnishing them with her own light. It gathered in a pool at their feet; with a wave, Neema transformed it into fire, laid her hands in a final benediction on Oelwa and Namita, and vanished.

The lovers exchanged a tender glance, looked at the bonfire in front of them, and leapt across. A mighty cheer went up from the crowd and Jean felt Melusine's illusion dissipate, as bonfires sprang up throughout the clearing. Jean cast a quick glance over her fellows: Jubilee and Rogue were both sniffing openly, their respective seatmates not overlooking this opportunity for physical comfort, though neither dared to do more than take the lady's hand. Elsewhere in the crowd, people began to get up and walk around. Beside her, she heard Logan shift position restlessly; turning her head toward him, she found she couldn't meet the expression in his eyes. Almost reflexively, Jean leaned closer in to Scott. "So, what next?" she said.

One hand tangled itself in her hair. "How'd you like to jump a fire, love?" he asked. Her kiss was all the answer he needed.

END OF PART 6

JUBILEE: _(sniffs)_ Aww, that's so sweet! _(looks around)_ Sheesh, where is everyone? Guess Zelda's still giving Kincaid a talking-to. So that means … I get to finish! Su-weet! (_shuffles through papers)_ Chapter 7, chapter 7 … here we go: Melusine suffers the aftereffects of over-indulgence, citrus for Scott and Jean … huh? … Ooooh! I get more time with Llera! Score one for … CELEBRATION LEE!?!?! That's it, I'm going to find that bitch and take her out … NOW!

Z: It won't make a difference, Jubilee. Even though it hasn't happened yet, it has already happened and so you going after the person who hasn't done it won't stop it because it's already been happening.

Ju: Did you set the control to "Babble" on purpose? 

Z: _(flushing an unbecoming red and wrenching a knob on the control panel)_ Hn. Baka. _(a panicked expression crosses her face and she wrenches the knob around again)_

Ju: _(with false sympathy)_ Oh dear, did you just find the Heero Yuy setting? 

__

Zelda's eyes glint maliciously as she twists the dial a third time.

Ju: Don't you dare! Oh crap! _(she stands)_ If you read and don't review, NO COOKIE FOR YOU!! 

__

Jubilee stalks offstage, muttering.

Ju: When'd she have time to program the Soup Nazi?


	7. An Itch You Can't Scratch

JUBILEE: Welcome back and Happy New Year! For those of you who still remember any New Year's overindulgence, I'm sure you'll sympathize with Melusine as this chapter progresses. You all remember Melusine, don't you? The mysterious mutant who tumbled off a building and into the lives of the X-Men, and who came conveniently equipped with her own beach house in the Bahamas? Last episode she starred in an interpretive dance that gave ideas to several of the X-Men, including Rogue, Scott, Jean, Gambit, and myself! _(pauses)_

ZELDA: What?

Ju: I don't believe it. I just made it through a whole summary without an interruption. It's just … I don't know … I feel …

Z: Incomplete?

Ju: Terrific! I AM THE STAR!!! BOW BEFORE ME!!! (_sparkles fountain up from Jubilee's hands)_

Z: While Jubilee demonstrates her power *cough* suffers from delusions of grandeur *cough* let me remind you the X-men are not mine. Also, much thanks, and this lovely home-baked cookie, go to Sarah for reviewing! I like the old characters, too (as you can probably tell!). 

Ju: And last but not least: welcome to adultville, boys and girls. In the words of Buffy Summers, "we're talking violence, strong language, adult content." Don't say you haven't been warned. _(sparks shoot off in all directions)_

Z: In other words--limey freshness! Yipe! DUCK! And watch out for flying citrus!

****

PART SEVEN: AN ITCH YOU CAN'T SCRATCH 

Throb, throb, throb. Melusine massaged her aching temples but to no avail. The headache she had simply refused to go away. And she knew, from experience, that no amount of healer's power could get rid of it, either. The pain she felt was the direct result of pushing her psychic abilities too far, leaving her mind raw and open to the pulsing thoughts of every individual who'd arrived to celebrate Chaharia. Not that she hadn't expected to suffer a little, creating an illusion of that force and magnitude. But she'd been sandbagged, sabotaged by her own unreliable mind, when she'd removed Erulifa's mask. Maybe if she tried pinching the bridge of her nose … With her free hand she reached for the bottle that someone had thoughtfully left on the table.

"You should watch out for that stuff. It's almost two hundred proof!" warned a voice. Melusine raised her head. "Lali," she managed. "I see you're not changed either," said the girl who had danced the role of the goddess Neema. A pained look was Melusine's reply. "Poor baby," Lali said with no sympathy. "Actually, I came about your friends. My brother's attached himself to the littlest one—what's her name, Celebration? And that tall one with the glasses—he's with that older redhead, right? But what about the other two? Especially the smaller one?" It took Melusine a moment to process that Lali was talking about Wolverine. "What do you think?" she continued.

Melusine drew in a deep breath as she inadvertently picked up on Lali's thoughts, so much more graphic than her questions had been. "Yeah, sure, whatever," she muttered, waving her hand in dismissal. Gritting her teeth, she managed to prod Lali enough to get her to leave the little hut that was serving as her green room, but the effort brought tears to her eyes. Wolverine! As if! Melusine took another long swig from her bottle, considering. Nothing was going to take away this headache, and it was only going to get worse the longer her mind remained open to the general public. But there was one way to alleviate the pain; well, two, if you counted the bottle she held in her hand. In any case, she and Logan had unfinished business from their tango at Riccardo's. Decision made, she automatically reached out with her mind to locate him, only realizing her monumental error as the clamor of a hundred minds threatened to overwhelm her. And one voice was stronger by far than all the rest …

***

"Scott!" Jean's voice was halfway between a reprimand and a sigh. "Jean," he ever so slightly mocked, his hands continuing their feverish roaming of her body. We're practically out in the open, she scolded. Scott stepped them a little further behind the palm tree that was screening them from the clearing. "Better?" he whispered in her ear, before proceeding to kiss it, slipping his tongue into its crevices then gently teasing her earlobe with his teeth. Jean's senses reeled, as much from the physical sensations as from the vivid thoughts she was reading from her lover. "Scott," she tried again.

He pulled back from her, face gilded by moonlight. "I," she began. "Shh," he murmured. She searched his face, meeting the blank smoothness of his ruby-quartz glasses, raising a hand to his flushed cheek. "Jean," he groaned softly. "I love you. I want you. I can't think of anything more wonderful than us, here, now." His hand reached up to hers, slid down her arm, and skimmed down her side. She drew him back to her for another kiss, moaning as his devious, devastating hand found the slit in her sarong and slid up her thigh to brush lightly across the front of her silky panties. "Besides," he gasped, as her pleasure backwashed through their link, "can't you just make anyone who comes by go away?" Jean answered with a throaty laugh as she called on her telekinesis, bracing herself as she wrapped first one leg, then the other, around Scott's hips.

***

Gasping, Melusine grabbed onto the door frame, fighting to keep her footing. Her insides felt like molten lead—hot, heavy, burning. She whimpered as other random flashes sliced through her mind. A hit from the bottle helped to bring it under control and she was able to finally step out of the hut, into the clearing. Logan was still sitting with Jubilee, Rogue and Gambit, a full plate of food next to him. She took another step forward, into crushing disappointment, as Lali crowned Logan with a red garland, marking him as her own. In dismay, she shook the bottle in her hand, coming close to crying as she discovered it was nearly empty. _Grâce á Dieu, though, I know where they are keeping les autres._

***

Logan rolled over and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. The sun was hot on his front, birds were calling, and he'd slept better than he had in weeks. But being out of doors was always that way for him. He stood, brushed the worst of the twigs from his hair, and ambled into the clearing to find the rest of the team. "Logan!" called Rogue, waving him over towards a table loaded with breakfast. Biting into the tart flesh of the fruit she offered him, he realized someone was missing. "What happened to La Splendida?" Rogue rolled her eyes, nodding toward the burnt-out bonfire.

A wretched Melusine was sitting on the ground, knees drawn up to serve as a pillow, her blonde hair curtaining her face from the morning light. "What happened?" he repeated. Llera, on his way to her with a bowl that steamed a foul stench, answered. "My sister Lali found her on the beach, with those." A trio of empty bottles stood a few feet away. Logan whistled. He'd only dared to drink one bottle of the villagers' homemade alcohol, and that knowing his healing ability would keep him from the worst of its aftereffects.

A loud crash and three French words that made Gambit blush marked Llera's success at administering his cure. "What about her healing power?" Jubilee asked, wide-eyed. "At a guess," Jean tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she activated her lecture mode, "her current mental state makes it extremely difficult for Melusine to muster the control she would need to successfully reverse the damage the alcohol has caused to her system. Which makes a persuasive argument for an involuntary system, such as Logan's." Five pairs of eyes obligingly fixed on him; he bowed, smirking. "Thank you, Doctor Grey."

"My, look at the time," Scott announced mildly. "We've got to get back to the house if we're going to be ready to leave when Storm gets here with the Blackbird. C'mon, everyone into the Jeep." A short flurry of activity, and everyone was loaded. Except Melusine. Scott looked at Logan, who looked right back at him. The two men glared at each other for a moment, until, under the force of a raised eyebrow from Scott, a grumbling Logan went to give her a hand up. She was almost in the Jeep before she recognized what it was. "Non, I can't," she protested, her pale face going even paler. "C'est impossible."

"It's the only ride home," Logan pointed out. 

"Rather walk," she mumbled. Logan shot a dismayed look at Scott. _Why does it always have to be me?_ the leader of the X-Men wondered. "How far is it on foot?"

"Only two hours," said Llera. "Well, one normally, but …" he shrugged. 

"Scott, she can't go by herself," Jean prodded.

"I'll go!" Jubilee volunteered.

"And I will be glad to escort her home," added Llera.

Melusine swaying on his arm, reeking to high heaven of incompletely processed alcohol, it suddenly occurred to Logan that, without Jubilee along, it would be Scott and Jean, and Rogue and Gambit, and himself in the Jeep. "Guess I'll go too," he said.

***

They'd been walking for nearly fifteen minutes, Jubilee and Llera chattering excitedly as they went ahead, when Logan decided he might as well have some conversation. "Want to tell me what happened?"

From the incoherent explanation that followed, he was able to piece together that she had been trying to keep up with the alcohol using her healing power, but somewhere in the third bottle, she'd gotten confused. "No one's ever finished three entire bottles on their own, not for fifty years," confided Llera, who'd dropped back to check on Melusine. "It takes a strong stomach to drink one bottle. Or an unquiet soul, my mother says." 

Logan took a longer look at the woman struggling along beside him. Sure, the ground wasn't bumping along at forty klicks, but he had to bet walking in Melusine's condition was no hell. He swallowed, wondering if he wasn't going to regret this later.

"Might help to talk about it." 

After a pause, she began. "I dream about ma petite soeur," Her voice, quiet and tired, carried a distinct French-Canadian accent. "Marie-Thérèse. She 'as jus' t'ree years when I leave; only ting I was sorry to leave behin'. When I start for Papa John, 'e hask me what I want, and I tell him, to find her. For two year, he look, den one day he come to me, she is found." He saw her smile as she tucked the three tiny braids behind her ear. "Dat, that day," she corrected herself, "I start packing. She was still in Montréal, going to school. Two weeks later, I arrive. Get off the plane, catch the bus right to the house where she lives with my father. I get there, the door, it's open." She faltered, haunted purple eyes looking somewhere other than the verdant jungle that surrounded them. "Inside, jusqu'au porte, she is there, lying on the floor. Her blood everywhere. I try, I try with my power to save her, but there is nothing left. Only then do I look inside her mind, to see who has done this. But it is too late for that too." Silence fell between them, not a companionable one, but one Logan was comfortable with. When she was ready, she would take up the story again. "The police, they knew nothing. Only that she was one of many young girls killed every year. They look, but they cannot find him. So I look myself."

"Did you find him?"

"Oui," she answered, a satisfied, determined expression settling on her face. "I find him. But the police, they will not." 

"You killed him?" _C'mon, she barely comes up to my chin!_ He got the sharp end of a glare from her blood-shot purple eyes.

"You don't believe me?" Melusine drew herself up to her full dignified height of five feet, four inches.

Logan snorted. "Darlin', from what I've seen so far, you may be a talented dancer, but you're definitely a first-rate liar. Isabella." They broke from the jungle cover, onto the road only a few hundred feet from the beach house, Melusine fuming quietly all the way.

***

_"Tell me/how does it feel?/how should I feel?" Music blares from the enormous sound system that totally dominates one end of Les X, the newest and hottest club in town. She abandons herself to the rhythm, dancing solely for the pleasure it gives her, a joy untouched by any other consideration than the now. She looks up, and sees him. Tall, blonde, beautiful beyond imagining. He smiles, and she smiles back, dimly aware that in that moment, the world has moved beneath her feet. She steps forward, and slips, falling, falling, smacking into the ground with a shock that shatters her soul in horror as she pulls her hand away from the pool of blood. Her sister's blood. She screams, and he laughs at her, from across her sister's body. "Don't you know you're too late? But then, it's always been too late."_

"Non!" Melusine gasped, snapping awake in one hideous disoriented instant. "Sorry about the turbulence!" Scott called from the cockpit of the Blackbird. Melusine took a deep breath, sneaking a glance at the other passengers, trying to calm the frenetic hammering of her heart. No one seemed to have noticed her abrupt awakening, and, from the calm mental atmosphere of the jet, Jean hadn't picked up on her nightmare, either. She ran her trembling hands through her hair, hardly noticing as her healing ability banished the last of her hangover. 

"Coming in for approach," announced Storm. The jet dipped through another air pocket and Melusine tumbled back into the dreamscape, falling, falling, windows rushing past her, hitting the ground, afraid to look at Marie-Thérèse, dead beside her. Jean turned in her seat and Melusine frantically threw energy at her psychic shields. She wasn't ready, not yet, not for Jean. 

Logan wrinkled his nose as the acrid scent of fear winged its way through the cabin. _Now what?_ he wondered. _Sure, this ain't been Cyke's best flight, but_… He sniffed again, identified the base odour, and casually looked behind him to his left. Sure enough, Melusine was rigid in her seat, hands clenched on the armrest. He grunted. _Didn't figure her as air-shy_. The Blackbird touched down, and though he'd expected Melusine to dash for the exit, she remained seated. "Welcome home!" Hank called from outside. "Everyone have a good time?" At last, Melusine appeared in the jet's hatch; empty-handed, she walked blindly past a startled Beast, stopping in front of the Professor. 

"Please," she begged, swaying from the strain of maintaining her shields, "I have to know. What I'm remembering. Whatever it takes. I'm ready."

END OF PART SEVEN

ZELDA: Well, what did you think?

JUBILEE: I just wanna know one thing. Are you gonna get that girl for calling me Celebration, or what? 

Z: That's it? That's what you thought? You didn't feel sympathy for Melusine cause she lost her sister, or bewildered by her fragile mental state or, or, or _(throws her hands up in the air)_

Ju: Well, I guess I learned it sucks to be a telepath. And it's cool I got to walk home with Llera.

Z: ARGH! _(stalks offstage)_

Ju: Heh heh heh. I love doing that. Now you! Out there! You, the one reading! Yes, you, don't think I don't see you trying to hide behind that monitor! Do you want to know what's going to happen next? What's going on in Melusine's whacked out mind? Whether Zelda will write any more of these citrus scenes? Want a cookie? Then review! Why? _(The whole area is suddenly lit up with sparks_) BECAUSE I AM THE STAR AND YOU WILL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME!!!! 


	8. X-Posed Part 1

ZELDA: WHEEEE! WHEEEE! WHEEEE!

JUBILEE: What *are* you doing?

Z: WHEE!! I bought a new chair at IKEA and it spins and swirls and rolls right across the kitchen floor! I can push right over to the fridge and get a drink (_there is the "pop-fizz" of a can being opened_) and coast right back to the desk. And I built it myself! WHEEE!

Ju: No fair! I wanna try! (_A small scuffle breaks out over the chair with Jubilee the victor._) WHEEE!! This is fun!

Z: Rats. Now I need another chair. Kincaid!

LIAM KINCAID: You bellowed?

Z: Disclaim the story. I've got to build a chair.

K: We do not own the X-Men. We do own the workings of Melusine's maniacal little mind, so any dismaying inconsistencies belong completely to us. This chapter contains the following: angst, gore, bad language. But as I am not a Muse, it's not really my fault. Enjoy!

****

PART EIGHT: X-POSED 1 

The room was dim and quiet; Melusine took a deep breath, concentrated on the Professor's voice, tried to escape the feeling that she stood at the centre of a slow-spinning vortex.

"Henry will keep an eye on our vital functions during the trance. We will need to go quite deep, deeper than you and I have been before, if we're going to discover the truth of these memories. Jean will anchor us, provide us a way home." Xavier smiled reassuringly at Melusine. He didn't need any psychic abilities to sense her fear; it was evident in her huge eyes and pale complexion, making her seem no older than Jubilee herself. "Are you ready?" he asked, ignoring her mumbled "No." "Good. Then let's begin."

Remember, this is your voyage, Melusine, the Professor continued. You are in control here. Where shall we go? Troubled purple eyes drifted closed, and Melusine took Jean and the Professor Within.

***

"Whaddya think's going on in there?" Logan kept his eyes on the door. "Wolvie?" Jubilee asked, poking him in the arm for good measure.

"Don't call me that!" he snapped. She smiled brightly back. "Dunno, kid," he answered, taking the petty retaliation while he had the chance.

Her concern was made evident when she ignored his comment. "Do you think she'll really get all her memories back this time?" 

"Don't know." Logan exhaled, thinking about the set of Melusine's jaw when she'd told him about the man who'd killed her sister. "But I intend to stay put until we find out."

Jubilee crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Good. Me too."

***

Where are we? Jean asked the Professor. He gave her a bemused shrug. They were standing in the middle of a deserted street of wartime row housing, everything in sepia tones. The houses gave Jean the impression of theatrical sets, perfection in front but empty shells behind. Melusine stood twenty feet in front of them, white dress and blonde hair glowing softly in the dull setting. Melusine? Xavier called.

Confusion radiated back at them. I don't know, she replied, twisting around to see behind her. Wait! Did you see that? She spun around once, then again. What? Jean asked. There! Melusine exclaimed, pointing. Down that way ... No! she cried, bolting down the street, Jean and Xavier in hot pursuit.

Which way did she go? she snapped at them when they caught her two blocks later. Who? inquired the Professor. Marie-Thérèse. Ma soeur. It was the third door on the right. Melusine hastened forward and threw open the door. A scream echoed through the landscape as she staggered back. Xavier caught only a glimpse of the dead man inside before the door slammed shut. Not there! she moaned.

Melusine! Xavier put all the force he could muster into her name. She stilled immediately. He turned to Jean. Stay here. Guard the way home for us. She nodded. We'll have to go deeper in. Are you willing? Melusine also nodded. Then let's begin with this door. He took her hand and together they opened the door.

They were inside a club, noisy beyond Xavier's wildest imaginings. A bright spot in the center of the dance floor drew Melusine like a moth to a flame. I was here, she said slowly. And ... she spun around, then pointed. A spotlight clanked on, illuminating a tall, good-looking man. So was he, she finished, going a little glassy-eyed as the man, still in the spotlight, stepped down onto the dance floor to join her. Good, praised Xavier. And then? The club whirled away, replaced by the stark furnishings of any one of a million New York hotel rooms. The man embraced Melusine; she raised her head dreamily from his kiss, nerve endings tingling. And stiffened as she saw something over his shoulder. Non! 

What? The scene spun forty-five degrees. Behind the man stood a young girl, horrible gashes in her neck and abdomen, curly blonde hair densely matted with blood. Marie-Thérèse, moaned Melusine. The apparition flickered around the edges, then disappeared. Melusine relaxed immediately. Just a figment of my imagination? she guessed. Perhaps, Xavier answered. Bien. Allons.

They were still in the hotel room, blueprints and photos scattered across a table. The man slammed his hand down, arguing vehemently with empty space. Melusine quirked her head to one side at Xavier's wordless question. I don't know, she began. He wants... She gracefully stepped up to the table. "Non," she stated, quietly but firmly. "I won't do it, Nasyd. Why should I?" Following her, Xavier picked up a photo. Joshua Doors. "I don't need the money." "But what if I do?" the man asked. "You have to do this for me." "Non," she repeated, turning to leave. Nasyd took her hand and the scene rippled, once, then again, stabilizing, yet somehow, Xavier felt, ominously darker. "You have to do this for me," he emphasized. "D'accord. For you," Melusine replied, opening the door and going through. 

Her panic rose up in Xavier's stomach, strong and menacing. This can't be right. This isn't right! At her feet lay the bloody corpse of the girl Melusine had identified as her sister. She backed up a step, blindly feeling for the door knob. The scene began to wobble, flashing, iridescent lights drawing nearer. Melusine continued to retreat, Xavier beside her, until her backside ran into the door. With a flash they were through.

_What is going on with you, Melusine? _Xavier wondered as a series of bizarre images zipped past them. Marie-Thérèse, shifting into another body, a man, also horribly mutilated, more faces, more deaths. They came faster and faster, culminating in the surprised expression of Joshua Doors as his body slid with a soft thunk from Melusine's dagger onto the floor. "I had to do this, for you," she explained, to the wild-eyed, still handsome, blonde man who stood, exultant, behind her. They went through a door, where the lizard-man waited for them. "She did it!" he cried, pointing an accusing finger. "The girl is gone!"

Nasyd turned on her in an instant. "You defied me? You said you would do it, and now she is gone?" Melusine shrunk back, the edges of the scenes beginning to dissolve and reform under her stress. _Oh god, what have I done?_ she panicked, ignoring the voice that urged her to remain calm. The dizzying, whirling lights returned, pulsing through impossible colours. They pushed at her, pressed at her. She could hear their hungry, hissing voices echoing in her mind. She was His, they warned. She had always been His. To defy him was death; she could read that in the angry pale green eyes that narrowed dangerously as he decided what to do with the one who had failed him. She couldn't stay, didn't dare to stay to find out what would happen. 

She broke and ran, fear her enemy and her friend, making her run faster than she ever had before, her legs weak beneath her. Ahead, on the right, was a door. Unlocked! She jammed herself inside, the noise of pursuit disappearing as the door closed. Panting, she stumbled into the room, landing hard on her knees as something tripped her up. _Oh no, not again! _she begged. Not her sister, again. Light filtered in, from a window high overhead, and she realized she was somewhere worse.

The middle-aged man laid sprawled on the floor. The cuts and gashes that covered his body were merely superficial, though there was enough blood to mislead the casual observer into supposing they were the cause of death. But they weren't. She knew, though she'd prevented their clotting with just the tiniest influence of her healing ability, a misuse for which she would pay for days to come. No, she'd used her knife only as a focus, when she had felt that his attention was waning, as she stripped his mind and fed it back to him piece by piece. That was what had killed him in the end. That absolute, craven terror. Whatever thrill he'd gotten from molesting and killing little girls, it hadn't been enough, in the end, to save him from her. 

Marie-Thérèse had been well repaid. Melusine brought shaking hands to her mouth. _But why am I here?_ "Catch her, mindfuck her, and feed her to the mob!" Nasyd commanded as he strode onto death's stage. Kneeling down by the corpse, he dipped a well-manicured hand in the blood still oozing from a wound on the man's chest. He brought the hand to his lips, sniffed once, and then sensuously licked the blood off his fingers. Melusine gagged; he turned his head to the noise. Grinning ferally at her, he rose in one fluid motion. "You're too late," he smiled. "But then, it's always been too late." He gestured; the corpse blurred, shifted, became that of Marie-Thérèse. "Always too late," he sighed happily, eyes locked with hers as he crouched beside her sister, caressing the dead body with the soft touch of a lover. Darkness, so black that it almost began to radiate light, was creeping in along the edges of the room. "You have to do this for me," he crooned, offering her a dagger. The darkness swirled in closer; dimly, she heard a pounding, and someone crying her name. She took a step forward. "It's always been too late," she agreed, closing a nerveless hand around the length of steel. He smiled encouragingly at her as she took the weapon, feeling its weight in her palm. Nasyd continued smiling as she drew it back, and plunged it into his chest.

Darkness exploded around her; as it cleared she realized she was back, again, in the dark little hallway of the row house where Marie-Thérèse and her father lived. She looked down; at her feet lay her sister, blood solidifying in the pale curls. She glittered like silver in the dimness. And darkness swirled around her head. Melusine grabbed it with a snarl. Back to the kitchen, back to her sister's murderer. Darkness was pooling at the dead man's feet, it swirled and glittered on the cheap linoleum floor. She could feel it creeping up her legs, past her knees. "It's always been too late," she agreed, and reached out to the man with the dagger in his chest with her mind.

***

A gut-wrenching scream erupted from the silence of the Professor's study. Logan burst into the room, Jubilee paffing fireworks behind him. The Professor was slumped over in his chair, Beast already tending him; Jean was curled into a fetal position on the sofa. There was no sign of Melusine. 

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"You must go after her. I'm afraid, in her condition, she may do herself an injury." Hank tipped Xavier's head back, revealing the handle of a dagger buried in his chest. Logan's eyes went wide with shock.

"But-" Jubilee protested. He whirled, the snickt of his claws loud in the room. "Stay here," he commanded. "Look after Jean." He sniffed once, to orient himself, then set out through the French doors.

***

Melusine ran through the woods, fear her enemy and her friend, equal parts hunter and hunted animal. Her telepathic ability was stretched to the utmost. She could not let them catch her. The landscape blurred in front of her eyes, under the weight of the realities warring in her mind. In one reality she'd plunged a dagger into the heart of the man who'd killed her sister. In another, she'd killed him with his own thoughts many years before. And in yet a third, she'd opened her eyes to see her hand shaking on the dagger she'd embedded in Professor Xavier's chest. Her hold on sanity was slipping by the moment, until, momentarily, everything stabilized. Her lip curled in a silent sneer. Of course. They'd sent him after her. More fools they. She made an abrupt turn as a plan crystallized in her mind.

***

Logan stopped and tested the air again. He'd been chasing Melusine for close to an hour now, his mind gibbering at him that she was gone, she wasn't here, he'd never find her here. But his nose was telling him a different story, and that was the one he was following, installment after installment, as he tracked her through the ten acres of wilderness that surrounded the mansion. 

It was the smallest of changes in air pressure that alerted him. He spun round just in time to recognize a pair of size six and a halfs before they connected squarely with his solar plexus. With a neat somersault, Melusine landed on top of him. He tried to throw her off, but he was immobilized as surely as if Magneto held him in place. "Mel," he croaked. Her eyes were wild; a long thin knife was in her hand. She set the point to his throat. 

"I wonder how long it would take you to heal from this?" she said, dreamily, pressing the point in ever so slightly.

END OF PART EIGHT

FROM BACKSTAGE: WHEEE!! WHEEE!!! WHEEEE!!!

ZELDA: (_still backstage_) Oh man, I've gotta stop. The room is spinning! (_comes onto the A/N stage_) Is that it? Is it over?

KINCAID: Yeah. 

Z: Kind of a cliffie, isn't it. 

K: Yeah.

Z: Am I totally evil, or what?

K: (_a pause_) So, did you do the thing you said you were going to do with you-know-who?

Z: You-know -- Vol -- Oh, you mean Jubilee? Yeah. 

K: So, then, cue the voiceover!

VO: What's happening with Melusine? Is she really about to kill Logan? Is there any way to save him?

K: Probably not!

VO: And what have Kincaid and Zelda done with Jubilee? The answers to these questions (and any posed in your reviews) in the next installment of "Once her name was Melusine …"

K: Soon with more lemon-freshness!

Z: Please review! My sister said this chapter was weird … I don't want her to feel alone!


	9. XPosed Part 2

A VOICE (offstage): Oh my god! It's still alive!!! Kill it, kill it!!! 

__

There is a loud THWACK. Jubilee strides in only a moment later, pausing to scrape something off her shoe. She stops, bewildered by the bright light.

JUBILEE: Oh my god! It IS still alive! Well, what can I say? Zelda doesn't own the X-men, nor does she appear to own a dictionary with the word "Cliffhanger" properly defined. 

ZELDA: I could send you back, you know.

__

KINCAID materializes out of the dark.

KINCAID: Just like you were able to get rid of me? _He rolls his eyes._

Ju: Please note, graphic stuff (yes, even *more* graphic) lies ahead.

K: She means sex, boys and girls!! (Or boys and boys, as the case may be ...)

Z: (whispering) For those of you who may not remember, we last saw a mentally unstable Melusine holding a knife at Logan's throat ...

****

PART NINE : X-POSED 2 

A little drop of blood oozed out around the pointed tip of her dagger. Melusine hissed in frustration as she felt the wound closing itself. Logan lay growling beneath her, unaware that the force holding him in place was nothing more than his body's recollection of Magneto's power.

"Melusine," he gritted through clenched teeth, "you don't need to do this. What happened to you before, that wasn't your fault. You were coerced. This isn't you. Let us help you." Her eyes glittered in the half-light. 

"Isn't it?" she muttered, leaning a little harder on the knife. She opened her shields, casting from side to side. "How do you know this isn't who I really am, Charles?" she spat triumphantly, as she traced the link he'd made with Logan. 

"You were forced, manipulated," Xavier whispered in Logan's voice.

Melusine laughed bitterly. "Wrong. No one can _make_ anyone do anything. You ought to know that." She tweaked the link, breaking the tenuous connection, funneling Logan's own pain back to the Professor. She disrupted things further by slamming her shields closed, surrounding herself and Logan with the strongest psychic walls she could construct.

"Mel," gasped Logan, straining to move something, anything. The smell of blood was in his nostrils; he couldn't tell how much from the tiny wound on his neck and how much Xavier had left behind him, from Melusine's memories. He could feel her trembling and he increased his attempts to get free. He could take her in a second if only he could move. "You heard what Xavier said. This isn't you."

"You know nothing! Not even a telepath can make someone do something completely against their will." She lashed out with the finest of mental filaments at a very specific target. Lost in concentration, she never saw the hazel eyes of her captive widen. "Do you see?" she began.

Logan felt every drop of aggression drain out of his extremities and pool in his groin. "Oh my," Melusine breathed as the change became apparent. She sat up, her own eyes round as saucers. "How long has it been?" she queried, her lips curving upwards as the answer sprung to his forebrain. "That long?" She leaned forward, weapon forgotten, until her face was only inches from his, her hair falling forward to surround him with her scent. He inhaled, and a second stab of pure lust made his condition even more acute. 

"Pauvre," she scorned softly, her fascinated eyes registering every change desire made to his features. "Whatever shall you do?" A low-pitched warning rumbled in his chest. Mon Dieu, but she liked this game! Bracing her arms on his chest, she slowly drew her pelvis up the length of the erection pressing into her through his jeans. Logan closed his eyes, gasping slightly at the sensation; her own breathing quickened in response. His jaw set as his eyes reopened. "Bitch," he said, and she smiled.

"Now, now," she scolded, pushing herself upright. "Do you really mean that?" She rotated her hips slowly. Logan couldn't suppress his groan as he felt the hot, damp proof of her own desire. Oh, she was a first-class bitch, he had no more doubts about that, and just as soon as he could distract her enough he would ... His thoughts trailed off as she undid another button on her blouse, then another. 

She pulled the garment back to reveal her bare breasts, peeled it down her arms, stripped off the sheaths where her deadly daggers had hidden. Spring sunlight danced down into the glade, highlighting first a creamy swell, then a pert rosy nipple. Picking up her discarded dagger from the ground, she placed it at his navel. He tensed in sudden fear. 

"Shh," she soothed, then ran the knife in a smooth motion up his chest, splitting his tee-shirt in two. "Better," she sighed, running her hands through his abundant chest hair. "Much better," she confirmed, leaning forward again. It seemed like forever before her nipples brushed his chest and they finally lay bare flesh to bare flesh. "Now," she exhaled, her mouth millimeters from his own, fingers gently skimming his forehead and caressing his cheek, "if I were to release you, would you promise to be bad?" 

With an enormous effort of will, he closed the gap between her lips and his, kissing her brutally, equal parts punishment and promise. She melted into him, a sob of pleasure deep in her throat, and loosened the illusion that held him immobile, keeping a light link open as a precaution. Logan's hands, free to move of their own accord, slid up her back. One caught at the nape of her neck, pressing her closer to him. The kiss continued, no quarter asked, none given. Melusine could hardly breathe, could hardly think. It was exactly what she had wanted. 

Logan's hands moved down to her ass; through the link she caught his frustration at finding her still partially clothed. Breaking the kiss, she slid a hand down between their bodies, unfastened the waistband of her pants, pulled down the zipper. His hands tugged impatiently at the stretchy fabric. "Patience," she scolded, tilting upright and throwing her legs forward. With a tiny bounce she stripped completely, and in a heartbeat she was back on Logan's chest. 

The tang off her pants as they flew by his head goaded him into action. He flipped them over, pinning Melusine beneath him. _See how you like it, _he thought. She answered him with another kiss, searing as the first, her hips arching upwards to meet his. Again Logan's frustration pushed at her mind, though this time at his own non-nudity. Scowling fiercely, he tore off the offending garments; she whimpered as cool air washed across her abdomen. He thudded back on top of her, claimed her lips for another passionate kiss. And hotter even than his skin was the length of his hardness, pressing into her thigh, pressing between her thighs, searching out her own hot wetness. The tip of his erection slid down her labia, coming to rest just at her entrance. Pulling back to search her face, he stopped there. Now the frustration was all hers. And in that very moment, she nearly lost everything.

__

"It's always been too late, Melusine." Nasyd rose from the corpse of her sister, from the corpse of her sister's murderer, from the corpse of Joshua Doors. He rose, and she was his. Panic gripped Melusine; she tried not to let it out, but somehow Logan sensed the change. She could feel the question forming in his mind, and knew she had to stop it. Now was what she needed -- the purity of being in this moment and no other. It was the only way to hold the darkness back, to chain it until she could deal with it. She couldn't let him stop. "Logan," she whispered, as her right palm touched his temple and the link between them opened wide.

__

"Logan" she'd whispered. It was the last clear thing they remembered before their world had become pure sensation. Desire pulsed between them, calling both: the aching void that demanded to be filled; the burning fire that begged to be quenched. They could not be separated, could not be distinguished. What one felt was shared by the other. Wonder at the exchange was soon forgotten in the urge for completion, apprehension about the consequences disappeared in the need for absolute, intense pleasure. They stalked climax with ruthless efficiency and were transfixed. 

***

Wow.

Melusine, sweaty and satisfied beyond complaint, heaved a sigh as Logan recovered enough to roll off her. "That takes the edge off," she continued aloud.

"That mean you ain't gonna kill me?" he asked dryly. Then, before he even had time to consider the action, he gently rapped her behind the ear with his fist. "Guess not," he said to Melusine's unconscious body. 

__

Unconscious, naked body, he suddenly realized. _Oh, sure, what a great idea-sneak up on her before she could pry out what you're thinking._ He visualized returned to the mansion with a naked Melusine over his shoulder. _Don't even want to imagine Jeannie's face when I drag her in._

Logan? He groaned, frantically trying to cover up his most recent thoughts. _Think of the devil..._ Jean's mental voice was faintly amused, but mostly worried. Are you alright? The Professor and I couldn't find you -- have you had any success locating Melusine?

The scowl he directed towards a nearby pine would have been a harbinger of fiery death, had he been Cyclops. Logan? 

"Yeah, I found her," he said. "She's fine. We're both fine. Fantastic. Should be back home in about half an hour. How's Chuck?"

Hank says it's not as bad as it looked. He's given him something for the pain; that's why I'm contacting you. But once Melusine is back, she should be able to take care of it.

"Damn straight." 

Jean sighed at the anger and absolute resolve Logan put into those two words. Be good, she admonished. The fleeting image of his unrepentant grin was the last thing she got from him.

"Fantastic," he muttered, turning his attention back to the nude blonde in the clearing. "Abso-fuckin-lutely fantastic."

***

Twenty-eight minutes later, Logan came to a halt at the edge of the forest, Melusine slung over one shoulder. He'd managed to get most of her clothes back on, but he hadn't found any shoes, though he distinctly remembered the impact they'd made with his chest. A muffled grunt from behind him alerted him to Melusine's return to consciousness. She began to struggle weakly as he dumped her to the ground.

"Hey!" she protested, only to be immobilized by the unnerving sight of three huge metal claws bursting from Logan's clenched fist and coming to a stop a hair's breadth from her face. 

"Now this is the way we're gonna play it," he snarled menacingly. "We're going back to the mansion, and you're gonna fix up the Professor. No tricks. Understand?"

"The Professor?" Her momentary bemusement was swept away in the dark wave of recollection. "Xavier!" Her knife in his chest. "Is he...?" 

Logan maintained a watchful distance as Melusine struggled to her feet. "He's not dead. But Hank says Chuck could use a dose of your gentle healing powers." She winced as the wave of sarcasm made its impact. "And if you try anything, you'd better believe that the next time, you won't be getting such a long look at the claws." "I understand," she nodded. He retracted them, the gaping hole each had carved in his skin healing instantly. 

"Which way?" she asked, completely unsure of their location. He pointed to his left; she waited a moment. "Oh, no, after you," he smirked, and they set off, Melusine leading. Her head ached, especially the goose-egg she was growing behind her ear. _He hit me!_ Her initial dismay was complicated by grudging admiration. It had solved his problem, after all. But her self-repair would have to wait; it would be better to save her strength until she had done what she could for Xavier.

Because she had to believe she wasn't going to be too late.

END OF PART NINE

JUBILEE: And thar she blows!

KINCAID: I think that says it all, don't you?

ZELDA: Okay, when the imaginary people start dissing you ... you know you need reviews! This chapter ends our special order of angst, and we now return you to your regular programming. Thanks for reading!!


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